Sunday, June 2, 2013

PART 2, THE FIRST EVIL, 1931-1933: Chapter 19 (UNEDITED)

Between playing 'catch up' on some things yesterday, I actually totally forgot to post Chapter 19.  Sorry about that.  But here it is and hopefully I'll have Chapter 20 up a little sooner than I've been getting them.

If you are just catching up, see the CHAPTERS section to read the Prologue-PART 2: Chapter 18 before proceeding to PART 2: Chapter 19.
Otherwise, read from the word go :)


The air was thin on the Fleming property and the surrounding trees were still as not even the slightest wind blew on the grounds.  It was also as cold as the ice box that was down in the Blakes’ cellar. 
Dorothy stared out to the woods, her limbs still failing her mind’s warning to get off the property as soon as possible.  After what seemed like an eternity of struggling, she was finally able to get one of her legs moving, letting her foot touch the cold wooden boards on the porch.  She tried to deepen her shallow breath, filling her lungs with the icy air as she set her other foot down onto the porch’s deck. 
Dorothy inhaled and exhaled a couple times before she pushed her hands down onto the seat of the swing, using every ounce of strength she had to lift herself up.  The swing jerked and swayed in response to Dorothy’s movement.  She lost her footing and fell forward, landing hard on her front.  Her hands throbbed from the impact of catching her fall and one of her knees had smacked the porch’s floor hard and her right foot twisted under her.  But she was able to move her body and for that, Dorothy let out a relieved laugh which was a lot louder than she had intended it to be.  She quickly silenced herself and tried to stand.  It was a challenge, but she was able to begin heading for the porch steps, keeping most of her weight on her left foot as the other began to swell and the top of it was growing numb. 
When she got to the porch steps, she grasped the railing as she prepared to carefully descend the stairs.  Dorothy didn’t know how she was going to make it down the hill.  Her kneecap was still sore and her right foot was proving hopeless as she knew she had at least sprained it.  Dorothy held onto the railing, wincing whenever she would put any weight onto her right foot.  She had to get back to town.  That was the first step.  She would decide what to do from there, but she had to be off the Fleming property. 
Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief as she came to the bottom of the porch steps and stepped onto the grass.  Still holding onto the banister, the distance between her and the bottom of the hill began to sink in.  She tried letting go and taking a few steps that proved futile.  The pain in her knee was still there and she couldn’t put any weight on her injured foot.  Panic began to rise inside of Dorothy as the reality of her situation set in.  Here she was, on top of a hill that would take her about ten minutes to walk down if she was completely able and maybe five minutes if she could run.  The entrance and exit up and down the hill was a little over a mile long, but to someone injured, it would take much longer than ten minutes to leave.
Feelings of dread began to pulse through Dorothy as she tried again to take a few more steps away from the Orphanage’s main building.  There was danger nearby.  She could feel it.  What was even more troubling was how she ended up here in the first place.  Dorothy did her best to put all her focus on getting down the hill, trying to ignore the pain in her knee and foot.  She would succeed for a few steps only to have the throbbing soreness take over once again. 
Dorothy swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.  She still had the entrance’s hill to make her way down and she was still barely ten feet from the main building.  Dorothy resisted the urge to look back at the building.  The thought of the paintings still against the wall inside the master bedroom on the fifth floor entered her mind.  That was when she heard it.  She looked around.
What was that?
She heard it again and this time it sounded like humming.  Soft humming like one would sing to a child as he or she fell asleep.  A few bars and then would stop.  The more Dorothy listened the more it sounded like All the Pretty Little Horses, a lullaby Liz used to sing to her when she was a little girl.  Dorothy looked around, trying to place where it was coming from, but she couldn’t see anything that could be the source.
Perhaps it’s the wind.  Maybe I’m hearing things.  Maybe both…
Dorothy began to get that urgent feeling to leave the property.  She gingerly stepped down on her foot, but the numbness had worn off and the pain was even more intense than before.  The pain in her knee was beginning to disappear, but it wasn’t enough to allow her the ability of a faster escape.
Dorothy began trying to move forward again and that was when she felt a shove on her back.  She screamed as she toppled forward, landing with her elbows scraping on the drying soil and grass.  She let out a small whimper as she tried to crawl forward, away from her assailant.  But she wasn’t able to get so much as a few inches when a pair of hands grabbed her shins, dragging her backward and into the darkness of the building’s entrance.


Carl and Matthew had both awoken at around the time Dorothy was dragged into the main building on the Fleming property.  Carl had been wrenched awake after a dream he had had about Dorothy being up at the old orphanage.  He had seen black eyes and dark shapes flying around the buildings and through the trees on the grounds.  He had seen the paintings of Nathaniel and Maxine Fleming…only they weren’t Nathaniel and Maxine.  The Fleming children had looked significantly different in Carl’s dream than the actual paintings of them found up on the orphanage property.  Their features were darker and their clothing was just…different. 
In the dream, the two children had climbed out from inside their respected paintings as Dorothy lay on the bed in the old bedroom of Cedric and Margaret.  Dorothy appeared to be asleep and unaware that the two children crept toward her with mischievious grins spreading across their faces, revealing mouths of razor sharp teeth.  The children began to playfully pounce onto the bed when Carl had awoken.  There was an urgency telling him that this was more than just a dream.  The Fleming property was the last place Carl wanted to go to, but Dorothy was in trouble.  He could feel it.  Without giving it a second thought, he threw a jacket over the undershirt and pajama bottoms he was wearing, grabbed a pair of shoes and his car key and was out the door.


Matthew had also had a dream about Dorothy up at the Fleming Property.  In the dream, he was running around the grounds, searching frantically for his daughter.  He and Liz had been awoken to the sound of the telephone ringing.  It continued as Matthew made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen with Liz behind him.  He had picked up the phone to hear the voice of Tahatan urging him to go check on Dorothy.  A puzzeled Liz had gone upstairs to Dorothy’s room while Matthew stayed on the phone.  Matthew was beginning to ask Tahatan what his phone call was all about when he had heard Liz running down the stairs saying that Dorothy wasn’t in her room.  Liz had run to other areas of the house to look for her daughter, but Dorothy wasn’t anywhere in the house. 
“Go up to the property,” Tahatan said.  “The Fleming property.  Protect yourself.  And hurry!  It will be too late soon!  I’ll be on the first train out tomorrow morning.”
As Liz phoned the police, Matthew was out the door and to his car.  Tahatan told him to protect himself and Matthew knew that his cousin hadn’t meant his pistol.  Matthew had an old, small crucifix that had belonged to his great grandfather, Charles Blake.  He also had a figurine of a wolf that had been given to Jonathan and Kimimela when Matthew’s father, Gerard, had been born.  In many Native American tribes, the wolf was seen as a symbol of protection and each descendent of Jonathan and Kimimela had gotten one at birth.  Matthew had also grabbed Dorothy’s wolf from her dresser. 
Matthew’s heart raced as he drove up to the property.  He wasn’t as well-averesed in protection the way Tahatan was and hoped he knew what he was doing.  For a second, this thoughts went to his colleagues at work and how they would sometimes chide him about ‘doing voodoo’ whenever he would visit with his Native American relatives.
I’d do all the so-called voodoo in the world…anything for Dorothy.
“Dear God, please let her be alright,” Matthew prayed aloud.  He hoped that Tahatan was wrong, but something told Matthew that he wasn’t.
“Please God, she’s my only child…” Matthew said as he felt tears begin to well up at the thought of something happening to Dorothy.
Matthew turned his car up the entrance of the Fleming property, instantly observing how different the air seemed here.  He was also surprised to see another car driving up ahead of him.  The other car pulled up at the orphanage’s main building and Matthew instantly recognized it as being Carl’s.
“Carl!” Matthew said as they both emerged from their cars.
“Mr. Blake!” Carl answered, relieved to see Matthew.  “I had a dream about Dorothy up here—“
“Nevermind all that now,” Matthew interrupted him.  “Let’s find her first.”
When they got up onto the porch, Matthew handed Dorothy’s wolf figurine to Carl.  “Take this,” he said.
Carl had seen the wooden wolf on Dorothy’s dresser and she had explained briefly that it was an American Indian symbol of protection.  He was still puzzeled at how it would protect them, but he took it anyway without questioning. 
They entered the doorway to the entrance, shining their flashlights around the rooms until they reached the staircase.  They ascended the stairs calling out Dorothy’s name, trying not to be too loud but just enough so she may hear.
When they were in the corridor of the second floor, Matthew turned to Carl and said, “Alright.  When you all were up here the other night…is there a place in particular you think we should look in?”
Carl hesitated before answering, “Well, we spent a lot of time up on the fifth floor…” 
“Let’s start there, then.  And work our way through the rest of the building until we find her,” Matthew said.  There were other buildings on the property, but right before Matthew had hung up the phone with Tahatan, his cousin had emphasized focusing on the main building.
Guilt came over Carl as he recalled the events of that night and how it was his idea along with Jimmy’s to come up here.  He wondered if all of this would even be happening had they just ended things after being in the cemetery.  It was obvious even in the graveyard that Dorothy wasn’t responding very well to the events.  Why couldn’t he have seen that and insisted on taking Dorothy home despite her protests of being alright?
As they made their way up the stairwell, Carl asked, “How do you know she’s in this building?”
Matthew didn’t answer and continued leading Carl up the stairwell until they arrived at the fourth floor.  They made their way down the corridor, shining their flashlights in the rooms just in case Dorothy would be in one of them.  Carl noticed a lead pipe on the floor and picked it up to use as a weapon, though based on his experiences at the old orphanage, he had the feeling that it may not be of much help.  Still, he held onto it as his heart raced at the idea of Dorothy being lost in the building somewhere.
She may have fallen somewhere and is laying unconscious…AND YOU JUST MIGHT BE TOO LATE! 
The last sentence taunted the minds of both Matthew and Carl, causing both of them to stop and look at one another before proceeding to the stairwell that led up to the fifth floor and placed all their focus on finding Dorothy and ignoring any menacing shadows that may have lurked in the background. 
Matthew and Carl stood at the staircase when there was a movement in back of them that Matthew could swear that he saw out of the corner of his eye. It was a tall, dark figure (or shadow?) that seemed to be jogging, almost prancing, back and forth, in an out of the rooms and toward Dorothy’s father and boyfriend.  Matthew turned to shine his flashlight at the figure, but it disappeared when he did.
“Mr Blake, what is it?” Carl asked.
Matthew stared down the hall and said, “Nothing.  Let’s just head upstairs.  And quick.”
Carl turned and began to ascend the stairs to re-enter the old living quarters of Cedric and Margaret Fleming.  Matthew lingered for a second as he shone his flashlight to double check the corridor behind him.  There was something familiar about that shadow.  Something that Matthew had seen when he was a boy and it was something he had tried to push from his mind and forget.  But there was no way he would ever be able to forget that night in the barn when he was only ten years old.  The cold chills Matthew had felt on that autumn night in 1901 began to prickle the skin on his body as he stood almost in a trance as he recalled the events of that night.
“Mr. Blake!”
Matthew was shaken from the memory at the sound of Carl’s voice.  He looked up to see the young man staring curiously down at him.
“I’m coming,” Matthew said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
With a final glance down the corridor, he hurried up the stairs, following Carl into the hallway on the fifth floor.
Read on to Chapter 20 !

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