As many of you may know, in addition to the writing I do here on the blog, I also enjoy writing novels, short stories, and other freelance articles.  Years ago I started writing a collection of scary short stories that I’m hoping to eventually publish in book form.  My theme is water – all of the stories have water in them as sort of story element.  The anthology (called “Dark Water Tales”) is still a work in progress, but since we are in the Halloween season, I’d thought I’d share one of these entries with you on this week’s blog.  I hope you enjoy it.

 

“Billy”

The evening commute today was miserable.  Jennifer Lightner leaned as far forward in the seat of her Volkswagen Beetle as she could, bearing down tightly on the steering wheel and squinting hard to try to keep the road ahead in focus.  Sheets of rain pelted the car and the windshield wipers made visibility possible for only a second or two as they crisscrossed the front window in a quick, rhythmic arc.  The radio was playing, but Jennifer hardly heard it as she strained to concentrate.

Thank goodness she was off of the expressway, but the winding back roads of the Vermont countryside seemed even more challenging with the weather working against her.  The hard rain was dislodging the fall foliage, littering the roadway and her car with additional obstacles to contend with.  The red, orange and yellow leaves camouflaged the center line or the even the entire roadway from time to time, and Jennifer could feel a small bead of sweat forming at her temples as she continued to scan the wooded fringes of the paved driving surface.  At this time of the year, anything from a rabbit to a full grown deer could dart out in front of the car, and that could spell disaster.

She turned off at the next intersection and slowly made her way towards the covered bridge that spanned Wilson’s Creek.  One of many picturesque and restored covered bridges that dotted this area of the country, its historic charm was lost in the driving rain.  As Jennifer’s car entered the near end, visibility returned, as she was now sheltered from the storm, if only briefly.  She breathed a sigh of relief, listening to the thud of the tires as they crossed the wooden planking.  Cutout windows evenly spaced throughout the bridge on either side gave Jennifer a good look at the creek, which had already swelled from the rain that had lasted all afternoon.  If it kept this up throughout the evening and overnight, the creek might even flood, threatening the bridge itself.  It had happened before.  Wasn’t this the second or third covered bridge in this spot?  She couldn’t remember – the fatigue of the drive home this evening was beginning to catch up to her.

Jennifer’s respite from the storm was soon over, as the Volkswagen exited the far end of the bridge, back out into the full fury of the downpour.  She flicked up the car’s headlights to high beams as the evening darkness took hold.  Only a few more minutes, then she’d be safe and dry in her little cabin in the woods.  “The Thoreau cottage” – her friends at work in the city called it.  She was imagining herself wrapped up in a warm comforter on the couch, her cat, “Mr. Gray” in her lap, and drinking a mug of hot soup.  After a day like today, she might even treat herself to an Irish coffee.

Her mind was drifting to what the evening held in store.  As she rounded another turn, still thinking about home and hearth, a flash of movement caught her eye in the rain – right along the roadway.  Instinctively, she braked hard and pulled away from the movement, the car lurching to a stop.  Her purse and laptop slid angrily off of the passenger seat and onto the floor.  She cursed silently to herself, then squinted through the rain soaked window to see the animal that she had barely missed, but it wasn’t an animal.  Jennifer blinked and squinted again in disbelief.

It was a small boy.

He was crouched along the roadside, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs – head down – as if trying to keep dry.  He was failing miserably.  Jennifer could see even through her now fogging windows that he was soaked to the skin.  His clothes were stained dark with moisture and clinging tightly to his small frame.

As the car idled and the rain continued to fall, the little boy looked up and stared straight at Jennifer.  He had a round, cherub-like face with close cropped dark hair, which she could see peeking out from underneath a rain-soaked newsboy-type cap.  What caught Jennifer’s attention most; however, were his eyes.  They were the bluest blue she had ever seen.  They almost glowed in the light of the headlamps.  She seemed paralyzed by his gaze for a moment, but soon shook her head and came to her senses.  She opened the door to her car and stepped out into the driving rain.

“Are you okay?” Jennifer asked.

The boy just continued to stare at her, inquisitively.  Jennifer trotted over to him along the side of the road.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get you out of the rain.”  She touched him on the shoulder, trying to guide him up and towards the passenger side of the car.

He didn’t resist.

Jennifer noticed his body felt ice cold to the touch, even accounting for his rain-soaked clothes.  She opened the passenger-side door of the Volkswagen Beetle, pushed forward the front seat, and helped the boy climb into its small back seat.  She quickly shut the passenger door and hurried to get back into the car herself.

“Whew!” she said, dripping wet with rain.  “What were you doing out on a night like this?”

The boy said nothing, but just stared out the window.

Jennifer grabbed the wheel and started forward, continuing to check on the boy through her rear view mirror.

“Don’t worry, sweetie.  I’ll take you back to my place to get dried off, then we’ll call your Mom and Dad, okay?”

The boy continued to stay silent, just watching the rain pelt the car window –a blank look on his face.

Jennifer didn’t know what to make of this.  There weren’t that many houses situated on these back country roads.  She’d been around long enough that she thought she had seen all of her neighbors, but she couldn’t place this boy.  Those eyes – she would have never forgotten those eyes.  Maybe he was lost – but from where?

She had more questions than answers as she pulled into her winding driveway.  Jennifer’s house was set in the woods well back from the road, along a rough gravel path about three hundred yards long.  It was a small two bedroom/one bathroom cabin, built in a rustic style.  She didn’t have a garage, but a carport extending from the kitchen side of the house provided shelter from the weather.  She pulled into the car port and parked, cutting the engine.  She turned to talk to the little boy again, who was still staring out the window, now taking in Jennifer’s cabin.

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

The boy didn’t turn his head.  She patiently waited.  Surely he was scared, cold and tired. After a lengthy pause, he slowly pursed his lips to speak.

“Billy,” he said, in a small and scratchy voice.

“Billy,” she repeated.  “My name is Jennifer – it’s nice to meet you.”

Billy didn’t acknowledge that he even heard her this time.

“You must be hungry, Billy,” said Jennifer.  Maybe I could interest you in a little snack while we try to get in touch with your parents?  I’m sure they must be worried.”

Billy didn’t say anything, but he did offer a slight nod of approval.

Jennifer gathered her purse and laptop and exited the car.  She came around to the passenger side door, opened it, and tried to coax Billy to come out.

“I promise it will be all right, Billy.  Come inside and let’s get you warmed up.”

Billy hesitated at first, but then he looked at Jennifer with those deep, piercing, blue eyes.  Again, she was mesmerized.  She had to look away and break his gaze, they were so brilliant.  He slowly climbed out of the back seat and shuffled towards the house, his head down.

As they walked into the kitchen from the side door, Jennifer finally took notice at what Bill was wearing.  Not only was he sporting a newsboy-type cap, but he had on a white, long sleeve shirt, buttoned up all the way to his neck.  This was covered by a tan, sleeveless, V-neck sweater.  He also had on what appeared to be brown knickers, the pants ending smartly ending at Billy’s mid-calf.  A large brown button adorned the pants along each side on the outside hemline.  This was accompanied by long, white socks (which met the knickers below his knees) and pain black shoes.

It almost appeared as if he was in some sort of costume.  Halloween was a week or so away, but many schools had holiday or “Fall Festival” parties beforehand, so she assumed this was the explanation for Billy’s strange attire.  Could a local school group have been out on a field trip and Billy became lost or separated from everyone else?  Kids Billy’s age were generally well accounted for on such trips.  He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old – definitely primary or elementary school age.

Jennifer guided Billy towards a seat at her kitchen table.  He was still so cold.  She placed her belongings on the counter.

“I’ll go get us some towels to dry off with and warm up, okay?”

Billy just stared at the sugar bowl on the center of the kitchen table, his arms neatly folded into his lap.

Jennifer walked back the short hallway that bisected the two bedrooms, stopping at the small linen closet just outside her bathroom door.  She opened the closet and retrieved two large Terrycloth towels – one for her and one for Billy.

She came back into the kitchen and gently draped a towel around Billy’s shoulders.  He made no acknowledgement of her deed, but continued to silently stare at the table.  She placed her own towel over her head, giving it a quick shake to dry off the residual water, then let the towel drape around her neck.

“Can I get you a snack of some kind, Billy?” she asked.

Billy didn’t say a word.

“How about some hot cocoa, hmmm?” Jennifer inquired.

Still nothing.

She decided to make him some anyway.  It took no effort with her one-cup Keurig coffee maker.  She popped in a hot chocolate K-cup and in seconds, the kitchen air was filled with the sweet aroma of warm chocolate.  She placed the mug on the table in front of Billy, who only briefly looked at it.

“Sorry I don’t have any little marshmallows,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.  It got no reaction from the little boy.

She stared at Billy for a few moments and then made herself a cup of coffee.  She needed to warm up as well.  She leaned back on the counter, mug cradled in both hands and pondered about what to do next as she looked Billy over.

“Do you live around here, Billy?” Jennifer asked.

Billy gave a slight nod.  Jennifer was elated.  She had finally gotten some sort of response.

“Can we call your parents?”

This time, there was no reaction, which was puzzling.

“Billy, there’s nothing to be afraid of – I want to help you,” she said.

She put down her coffee mug and approached the table.  She squatted down so he could more easily see her from under the brim of his newsboy hat.

“Can you show me where you live?  I’ll be happy to take you home.  I’m sure your Mom and Dad are worried.”

Billy slowly turned to look at Jennifer.  Once again, she was almost hypnotized by his stare.  He slowly gave a nod.

“Good.” she said.  “I’ll get my keys and we can go, okay?”

As she rose, she again placed a reassuring hand on Billy’s shoulder.  He had not warmed up at all.  He was still ice cold to the touch, which made Jennifer a bit worried.  She needed to get Billy home, explain to his parents what had happened, and get him out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath or shower.  Surely he would be happy and more open in a house full of family instead of a sopping wet stranger.

As Jennifer went to get her keys from the counter, Mr. Gray, her tabby cat, appeared in kitchen doorway.  Mr. Gray stopped and stretched, gave a meowing “hello”, and continued to waddle into the room.

“Well hello there, sleepy head,” Jennifer said to the cat.  “We have a visitor.  Mr. Gray, meet Billy.”

The cat looked up at the table.  Billy turned and looked at the cat, who immediately reacted by arching his back and baring his fangs.  He gave a screech and backed out of the room, fluffed up to twice his size as all of his hair stood on end.  He quickly disappeared down the hall and into one of the bedrooms.

Billy didn’t even react.  He just returned his gaze to the kitchen table.

Jennifer was startled by the entire scene.  She’d never seen the cat react that way to a stranger before.  Generally Mr. Gray would come over to anyone for a pet or a quick back rub, but he was still an arm’s length away from Billy when he reacted so poorly.

“It must be those eyes,” Jennifer thought to herself.

Billy hadn’t said a thing the entire time he’d been in the house, and he never touched his hot cocoa, which was still sitting in the mug on the table in front of him. Jennifer surmised it was going to be tough to get any specifics out of Billy on where he lived, but she had to try.  Surely his parents were worried about him.

“Come on,” she said, smiling at Billy, “let’s get you home.”  She guided Billy up from the table, tossing the towel that was around his shoulders onto the counter.  She gently guided Billy by the shoulder as she led him out of the kitchen door towards the car.  They’d been in the house now for over twenty minutes – yet Billy was still no warmer to the touch than when they had arrived, which was beginning to cause Jennifer some concern.

Billy climbed into the back seat of the Beetle and Jennifer closed the door, walking around to the driver’s side of the car.  The rain had thankfully stopped, but a fog was now rising from the ground, giving the night an eerie and wet stillness.

Jennifer began retracing her route back towards the covered bridge.  She decided she would start back at the spot where she found Billy, then begin to ask him basic directions on the upcoming roads to zero in on his location.  With Billy’s lack of response, she figured that was the best she could hope for at this point.  She peered into the rear view mirror.  Billy was again just blankly staring out of the passenger side windows, watching the scenery go by, but not really focusing on anything in particular.

She made a turnoff, heading towards the covered bridge.  The fog was thicker here, and she had to slow down, as visibility was almost as limited as it had been when the rain was falling.  Even so, she could begin to hear the swollen river as it churned up ahead.  It sounded high and dangerous, even thru the car windows.  Slowly, up ahead, the murky outline of the covered bridge and its dark entrance were beginning to come into view.

Jennifer took another look into the back seat via her rear-view mirror.  Billy wasn’t visible.  She physically turned to look, then slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park.

Billy was gone.

She looked over the seat.

He wasn’t there.

She looked again.

There was no trace of Billy anywhere in the car.  The hair on the back of Jennifer’s neck began to rise, and she was suddenly more than a little frightened.

What had happened to Billy?

She turned around in the seat and was trying to process what was going on, and absently looked out her front window.

There was Billy – standing along the roadside, staring at Jennifer with those piercing blue eyes.

Jennifer was paralyzed for a moment.  This time, Billy broke their locked gaze and turned, walking off of the roadway and down a small path along the side of the road that paralleled the swollen creek, just before the entrance to the bridge.

Jennifer opened the door and got out of the car.

“Billy!”  She called out.  “Billy?  Is that you?”

He didn’t answer and didn’t turn around.  He just continued down the path and disappeared into the fog.

Jennifer ducked back into the car and quickly opened the glove compartment.  She fumbled for a small flashlight, then quickly rounded the front of the car, heading towards the path.  The car motor was still running and the Volkswagen’s headlights continued to light up the roadway.  Jennifer stopped at the base of the path and yelled out again.

“Billy!  Please come back, I want to help!”

No answer.

She tentatively stepped off of the roadway and onto the darkened path.  The gravel crunched beneath her shoes and she could smell the rain soaked leaves.  She turned on the flashlight, which only pierced the fog-laden darkness a few feet ahead.  Jennifer could see the path and hear the churning creek beside it, but little else.  She took a few steps down the path, which descended away from the road towards the woods.

“Billy?”

Still nothing.

What was happening?  How did Billy get out of the car?  Why wouldn’t he talk to her?  Where was he going?  The questions buzzed around inside of Jennifer’s head, making her feel dizzy.  Her heart was racing, her mouth was dry, and she could feel the chill of the night air cutting through her jacket.  Still, there was a lost little boy out in that darkness – and she had to know.

She slowly followed the path another ten yards or so.  The creek and the path bent off to the right.  The din of the swollen creek drowned out all other noises.  Just ahead, the terrain leveled out, and there appeared to be a small bench along the path, facing away from the creek and towards the woods.  It looked as if a figure was sitting on the bench.

Jennifer shakily directed her light towards the bench and saw that there was indeed the outline of a small figure – just sitting on the bench, legs slowly swinging over its edge.

“Billy?” said Jennifer, “is that you?”

The shadowy figure turned its head, and 2 pinholes of bright blue shown like jewels in the night.  Billy’s eyes were reflecting off of the flashlight beam, and they stared directly at Jennifer, who felt a cold chill rush down her spine.  She tried to remain calm, but her voice was quivering and she was visibly shaking.

“B-B-Billy?” she stammered.

The figure vanished – right in front of Jennifer, but for a second or two – those eyes remained, still staring at her.  Then in a flash – they too were gone.

Jennifer was dumbstruck.  She hesitantly took another step towards the bench, and could see now that there was a small, wooden plaque sitting directly across the path from the seat.

Jennifer nervously took a few more steps, and she could now make out writing on the plaque.  She was fighting her urge to flee, and deliberately shown the light all around and looked over her shoulder, checking to see if there were any other signs of Billy.  There was nothing but darkness and the constant noise of the raging creek, which was now behind her.  Still, she felt like someone was watching her.

She steadied her flashlight and slowly read the inscription on the plaque, which was worn with weathering and age.  Her eyes grew wider and she unconsciously held her breath as she processed each line –

 

IN MEMORY OF OUR BELOVED SON

BILLY McCASKILL

Born: February 7, 1931

Died: October 28, 1939

Swept away in Wilson’s Creek during the flood of 1939

WE WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU

MOTHER & FATHER

The roaring creek made Jennifer’s scream inaudible as she ran off into the darkness and back into the foggy night.