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14 - THE END of the story?
THE SPLINTERED PLANTCHETTE
XIV
__________________________________________________________
George looked exhausted as he let the attendant lock the hospital door behind him. Upon seeing the physician in the hallway, George remarked, “I’ll come back this time tomorrow and check on her again, Doctor March.”
Shaking hands with his patient’s husband, the older man asked, “How was she today, Mr. Henson?”
“Better. She seems better than when I found her, at least. Thank you for everything, Doctor.”
“See you on Thursday. Not to worry, we’ll take good care of her for you, George.” After the man left, the physician entered the schizophrenic ward to follow up with his patient. The red haired woman sat in a recliner, quietly looking through a wire-reinforced window, with an ever so slight rocking-motion.
As the doctor approached, he overheard the woman whispering to herself, “The Planchette found you Olivia, you can rest now sissy.”
____________________________________________ From the beginning ... HERE
XIV
George looked exhausted as he let the attendant lock the hospital door behind him. Upon seeing the physician in the hallway, George remarked, “I’ll come back this time tomorrow and check on her again, Doctor March.”
Shaking hands with his patient’s husband, the older man asked, “How was she today, Mr. Henson?”
“Better. She seems better than when I found her, at least. Thank you for everything, Doctor.”
“See you on Thursday. Not to worry, we’ll take good care of her for you, George.” After the man left, the physician entered the schizophrenic ward to follow up with his patient. The red haired woman sat in a recliner, quietly looking through a wire-reinforced window, with an ever so slight rocking-motion.
As the doctor approached, he overheard the woman whispering to herself, “The Planchette found you Olivia, you can rest now sissy.”
........................................................................................................
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COMING SOON 2019!
____________________________________________ From the beginning ... HERE
13
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
XIII
________________________________________
Passing several other buildings along the way, Olivia tried calling Jillian as her eyes darted about in hopes of catching her sister possibly walking in her direction. In the apartment’s playground area was a grandfather watching his two grandkids walked their Chihuahua and Poodle. A few minutes later, Olivia quickened her pace at not getting an answer or a return call. As she came to the end of the complex’s property and a beginning trial into the nearby woods, still there was no sign of her sister.
Olivia stood there a second as she redialed the number making sure it was correct. Oddly enough she caught the sound of a distant phone ringing. She hung up. The ringing stopped. Olivia whispered aloud to herself, “Oh I better not catch her fooling around with that John Stevens in here either, I’ll kill her.” Then, entering the oaken, vine covered canopy of the undeveloped land, Olivia redialed the new number. Again she heard a phone ring. Its ringtone was getting louder and more distinct as Olivia went down the trail. She hung up, mad.
Coming to the Y junction, Olivia veered to the right; she knew the longer trail headed to the lakeside park area, where the Frisbee golf course began. If Jillian was with a boy she wanted to bust her red handed. The woods were silent. It was as if all the sound in the world had been turned off, and the outside muffled against the traffic and apartment life that lay beyond its lush greenery. Olivia’s eyes were scanning up ahead and her ears were hypersensitive, trying to pick up on any kind of noise.
“That’s creepy,” Olivia blurted aloud. Off the trail, amid a fern bed was the two halves of a white mannequin. The fourteen year old girl stood there for a second, and then, looking about her surroundings wondered aloud, “Where in-the-world is that girl.” She sighed a frustrated breath, and redialed her sister’s number. The phone rang loudly. Ever so slowly Olivia’s eyes began to edge back to the splayed mannequin parts. Suddenly her eyes honed in on the lit screen of Jillian’s cell phone. It was placed in clear view, resting atop a fallen tree branch mere inches from the feet of the red painted mannequin.
The mannequin was separated at the waist. The upper portion was laying a foot or so apart from the hips, with their badly bruised legs spread wide apart. Its groin area had a gaping hole, and a blacken-red, mangled-mass spilling out where the gentiles should have been. The body was covered in a battering of ugly bruises. The face of the mannequin was horrible to look at. Olivia was frozen as she stood there unable to take her eyes off the thing. The mouth of the white body on the ground in front of her had its cheeks slashed forming a grotesque, bleeding smile; its eyes and forehead had been brutally caved in. Suddenly, Olivia’s eyes went to the mannequin’s left ankle, and immediately identified Jillian’s bangle bracelets; dotted with pink butterflies.
She squealed a long, repeated scream, and then began vomiting over and over.
CONTINUE Reading to the end.... 14
______________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
XIII
Passing several other buildings along the way, Olivia tried calling Jillian as her eyes darted about in hopes of catching her sister possibly walking in her direction. In the apartment’s playground area was a grandfather watching his two grandkids walked their Chihuahua and Poodle. A few minutes later, Olivia quickened her pace at not getting an answer or a return call. As she came to the end of the complex’s property and a beginning trial into the nearby woods, still there was no sign of her sister.
Olivia stood there a second as she redialed the number making sure it was correct. Oddly enough she caught the sound of a distant phone ringing. She hung up. The ringing stopped. Olivia whispered aloud to herself, “Oh I better not catch her fooling around with that John Stevens in here either, I’ll kill her.” Then, entering the oaken, vine covered canopy of the undeveloped land, Olivia redialed the new number. Again she heard a phone ring. Its ringtone was getting louder and more distinct as Olivia went down the trail. She hung up, mad.
Coming to the Y junction, Olivia veered to the right; she knew the longer trail headed to the lakeside park area, where the Frisbee golf course began. If Jillian was with a boy she wanted to bust her red handed. The woods were silent. It was as if all the sound in the world had been turned off, and the outside muffled against the traffic and apartment life that lay beyond its lush greenery. Olivia’s eyes were scanning up ahead and her ears were hypersensitive, trying to pick up on any kind of noise.
“That’s creepy,” Olivia blurted aloud. Off the trail, amid a fern bed was the two halves of a white mannequin. The fourteen year old girl stood there for a second, and then, looking about her surroundings wondered aloud, “Where in-the-world is that girl.” She sighed a frustrated breath, and redialed her sister’s number. The phone rang loudly. Ever so slowly Olivia’s eyes began to edge back to the splayed mannequin parts. Suddenly her eyes honed in on the lit screen of Jillian’s cell phone. It was placed in clear view, resting atop a fallen tree branch mere inches from the feet of the red painted mannequin.
The mannequin was separated at the waist. The upper portion was laying a foot or so apart from the hips, with their badly bruised legs spread wide apart. Its groin area had a gaping hole, and a blacken-red, mangled-mass spilling out where the gentiles should have been. The body was covered in a battering of ugly bruises. The face of the mannequin was horrible to look at. Olivia was frozen as she stood there unable to take her eyes off the thing. The mouth of the white body on the ground in front of her had its cheeks slashed forming a grotesque, bleeding smile; its eyes and forehead had been brutally caved in. Suddenly, Olivia’s eyes went to the mannequin’s left ankle, and immediately identified Jillian’s bangle bracelets; dotted with pink butterflies.
She squealed a long, repeated scream, and then began vomiting over and over.
CONTINUE Reading to the end.... 14
______________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
12
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
XII
_____________________________________________
Sitting on a bar stool, eating a bowl of cereal, Olivia noticed the digital clock read 5:27PM, when her dad walked through the apartment’s front door. “Hi Daddy,” she was happy to see him.
“Hey Sweetie,” he said as he set a cardboard box down on the dining room table, and asked, “Where’s your sister, Jillian?”
“How do you do that, dad?”
“What’s that, honey?”
“Tell us apart, we always confused mom.” She loved how he picked up on details.
“Oh, I just think Jillian smiles more because she likes being older than you, Olivia.”
The younger teenager scoffed a laugh, “Yeah right, by two minutes dad, count them, two – minuets.” Looking at her dad’s uniform, she injected, “RICK? What happened to ‘RICHARD’ dad?” His daughter noticed the embroidered name tag on his Coca-Cola shirt was different today.
He shook his head with a smirk, “Yeah, I know right. I told that secretary of ours, Brenda to get the spelling right.” Then, changing the subject from work, Richard announced, “I was going to take you guys out for Chinese tonight. You’ve both helped out a lot and are doing great in school, so thought you could use a break.”
His daughter knew their finances were spread thin since her parent’s divorce, “You know we can’t afford to go out dad, besides it’s my turn to cook, and I’d like to make something I saw Chef Ramsey do on TV.”
Rummaging through the mechanical parts in the box that he had brought home to repair; her dad looked up, “Hey, we can afford it. I got a raise today! I wanted to go out and celebrate tonight.” A bewildered expression came over his face a second later, as though he was missing something in the conversation, he asked, “Where is Jillian?”
Olivia began cleaning up after herself, and started putting dishes away, “She got upset at me again, over some boy who helped her open her locker. She stormed off. She probably came the back way through the woods.”
His full attention was one of concern, “Okay. But, Olivia, don’t you think that 5:30 is a bit late? Even for her this is late.” Richard then instructed his daughter, “Go and check on your sister, please.”
Hearing the worry in her father’s tone, Olivia answered, “Yes, sir.” Then, getting her cell phone out of her backpack, Olivia added playfully, “And I won’t scold the old girl either when I find her.”
He grinned back, “Okay, sissy.” Rummaging again through the coke machine changer parts, her dad smiled at his daughter’s age difference.
“No, you stay here, Spence,” Olivia did not want to take the Brittany spaniel out and have to wait for the dog to do his business. The skies were darkening, and the junior high student just wanted to hurry things up. Mad or not, the two sisters always stayed in contact. Olivia was beginning to feel as concerned as her father, when she noticed there were no missed calls on her phone.
Olivia's hazel eyes scanned the grounds of the apartment complex as she exited the front door. She absent mindedly spun the butterfly bracelet on her wrist heading off to find Jillian. Jillian wore the same one on her ankle. Their grandmother Robin had given them as gifts to tell the twins apart. Olivia really didn't feel like going out and looking for Jillian or getting into another argument.
Looking beyond the treetops at the boiling storm clouds rolling in, Olivia muttered, "Thanks Jillian, now we're both gonna get drenched!" Seeking the shortest route home, she started out to the parking lot on the far side of the complex's property, only because when they were upset it was the paths they took. They enjoyed cutting through the undeveloped woodlands. With all the different trails and sidewalks to choose from Olivia hoped she wouldn't miss her sister along the way.
Her sandals clicked down a long sidewalk that lay between the last two buildings just before the woods began. Stepping off the curb, beneath the shadows of a covered carport, the redhaired twin spotted something on the ground. She barely managed not to step on it. The two halves of a heart shaped something caught her interest. Picking it up she instantly recognized what it was, "A Planchette, yeah like Dad would ever let us buy a Ouija Board, right sissy?" She held up the two splintered pieces together and peered through the clear lens that was still intact.
Olivia saw the greenery of the tree line off in the distance. An unexpected ray of sunlight shone through the disc refracting in the pointer's window with a brilliant color change. The glow took on an eerie haze bathing the woods in a blood red color. She dropped the toy immediately, yelling, "Sissy!"
She had stayed moments too long. Quickening her pace Olivia took up the search to locate her sister again. Retrieving her cell from a back pocket dialed her number, "Girl you'd better pick up!" The rings continued without answer, "Come on Jillian, swear if I get wet --." She hung up and marched faster off into the woods.
CONTINUE Reading... 13
____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
XII
Sitting on a bar stool, eating a bowl of cereal, Olivia noticed the digital clock read 5:27PM, when her dad walked through the apartment’s front door. “Hi Daddy,” she was happy to see him.
“Hey Sweetie,” he said as he set a cardboard box down on the dining room table, and asked, “Where’s your sister, Jillian?”
“How do you do that, dad?”
“What’s that, honey?”
“Tell us apart, we always confused mom.” She loved how he picked up on details.
“Oh, I just think Jillian smiles more because she likes being older than you, Olivia.”
The younger teenager scoffed a laugh, “Yeah right, by two minutes dad, count them, two – minuets.” Looking at her dad’s uniform, she injected, “RICK? What happened to ‘RICHARD’ dad?” His daughter noticed the embroidered name tag on his Coca-Cola shirt was different today.
He shook his head with a smirk, “Yeah, I know right. I told that secretary of ours, Brenda to get the spelling right.” Then, changing the subject from work, Richard announced, “I was going to take you guys out for Chinese tonight. You’ve both helped out a lot and are doing great in school, so thought you could use a break.”
His daughter knew their finances were spread thin since her parent’s divorce, “You know we can’t afford to go out dad, besides it’s my turn to cook, and I’d like to make something I saw Chef Ramsey do on TV.”
Rummaging through the mechanical parts in the box that he had brought home to repair; her dad looked up, “Hey, we can afford it. I got a raise today! I wanted to go out and celebrate tonight.” A bewildered expression came over his face a second later, as though he was missing something in the conversation, he asked, “Where is Jillian?”
Olivia began cleaning up after herself, and started putting dishes away, “She got upset at me again, over some boy who helped her open her locker. She stormed off. She probably came the back way through the woods.”
His full attention was one of concern, “Okay. But, Olivia, don’t you think that 5:30 is a bit late? Even for her this is late.” Richard then instructed his daughter, “Go and check on your sister, please.”
Hearing the worry in her father’s tone, Olivia answered, “Yes, sir.” Then, getting her cell phone out of her backpack, Olivia added playfully, “And I won’t scold the old girl either when I find her.”
He grinned back, “Okay, sissy.” Rummaging again through the coke machine changer parts, her dad smiled at his daughter’s age difference.
“No, you stay here, Spence,” Olivia did not want to take the Brittany spaniel out and have to wait for the dog to do his business. The skies were darkening, and the junior high student just wanted to hurry things up. Mad or not, the two sisters always stayed in contact. Olivia was beginning to feel as concerned as her father, when she noticed there were no missed calls on her phone.
Olivia's hazel eyes scanned the grounds of the apartment complex as she exited the front door. She absent mindedly spun the butterfly bracelet on her wrist heading off to find Jillian. Jillian wore the same one on her ankle. Their grandmother Robin had given them as gifts to tell the twins apart. Olivia really didn't feel like going out and looking for Jillian or getting into another argument.
Looking beyond the treetops at the boiling storm clouds rolling in, Olivia muttered, "Thanks Jillian, now we're both gonna get drenched!" Seeking the shortest route home, she started out to the parking lot on the far side of the complex's property, only because when they were upset it was the paths they took. They enjoyed cutting through the undeveloped woodlands. With all the different trails and sidewalks to choose from Olivia hoped she wouldn't miss her sister along the way.
Her sandals clicked down a long sidewalk that lay between the last two buildings just before the woods began. Stepping off the curb, beneath the shadows of a covered carport, the redhaired twin spotted something on the ground. She barely managed not to step on it. The two halves of a heart shaped something caught her interest. Picking it up she instantly recognized what it was, "A Planchette, yeah like Dad would ever let us buy a Ouija Board, right sissy?" She held up the two splintered pieces together and peered through the clear lens that was still intact.
Olivia saw the greenery of the tree line off in the distance. An unexpected ray of sunlight shone through the disc refracting in the pointer's window with a brilliant color change. The glow took on an eerie haze bathing the woods in a blood red color. She dropped the toy immediately, yelling, "Sissy!"
She had stayed moments too long. Quickening her pace Olivia took up the search to locate her sister again. Retrieving her cell from a back pocket dialed her number, "Girl you'd better pick up!" The rings continued without answer, "Come on Jillian, swear if I get wet --." She hung up and marched faster off into the woods.
CONTINUE Reading... 13
____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
11
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
XI
__________________________________________
It was an average day like any other when the world turned upside down. September the seventh of 2001 was a stunningly beautiful day, with just the barest wisps of clouds in the sky as the two girls walked home from school. Lake Cliff Junior High was only five blocks from their apartment, but it might as well have been a million. Jillian and her fourteen year old twin sister, Olivia was arguing along the way, and always about boys.
Olivia noticed her sister tuck a love-note into the back pocket of her blue jeans, “I don’t know what you see in him.”
With a blushing smile, she bobbed her head a bit and replied, “He’s cute, come on.”
Crossing the street leaving a group of other students behind, the twins caught up again on the opposite sidewalk. The younger one, by two minutes said, “Maybe, but his personality sucks, John Stevens is a real jerk, Jillian.”
“He’s a jerk only because he didn’t help you out with your locker combination, Olivia,” Jillian retorted sarcastically.
Olivia was trying to reason with her, “No. He’s a jerk because of the way he’s so two-faced with people. Like, when Jessica Stanford, Chelsea Glasgow, and Sandra –.”
Jillian scoffed a laughed at her sister’s resources, “Seriously, you’re going to list all the girls he likes, Olivia?”
Olivia tried to prove her point another way, “What I’m saying, silly is – more than one person at a time has told me things about the way –.”
But Jillian was put off by the offense, “You know what, don’t call me ‘silly’, and I’m like – just, so not interested in anything you have to say right now, alright?” With that, she stormed back across the street evading the conversation. Readjusting the shoulder straps on her backpack, Jillian sought an alternative route home to clear her head. The skies over head were growing darker. The seemingly unpredictable Texas weather was about to change. Jillian had walked an extra six blocks muttering to herself, then whispered aloud, “Oh wow, there’s Sandra Coke’s house, how the heck did I get this far?” She realized the time had gotten away from her, and it was getting late in the evening. No one else was around and the traffic in the outskirt community was quiet. Jillian turned around and started retracing her way back home, eleven blocks away.
As she did a baby blue Ford Mustang pulled up alongside of Jillian. From his window the driver calmly asked, “Starting to rain, need a lift?”
Jillian shuttered with the first pelting drops as well as being startled by a question from the silent road; she was still mad and answered sharply, “No. Leave me alone.”
The car met her pace as the smiling man ignored her tone, and asked, “Looks like it’s fixing to pour down any moment. Don’t want to catch the flu and miss school, now do you?”
Jillian was getting cold as the rain had indeed begun to come down harder. She certainly did not want to miss a chance at seeing her new love interest, so she conceded, “Alright, thanks.” The fourteen year old walked about the car and slid into the front seat of the stranger’s car. Keeping her backpack on she buckled up, and they were on their way. A few moments later Jillian asked the driver, “What’s your name?”
“Jonas Hartman,” he answered without hesitation and then asked, “I live in these apartments up ahead, and you?
Jillian informed him, “I live there too, building 17.”
Jonas smiled, “Oh, cool.” Then, looking into his rearview mirror noticing something in the backseat, regretfully injected, “I have to drop my friend’s son’s backpack off with his homework, it’ll only take a second, alright? He left it in the car. I’m so sorry; seriously it will only take a second.”
“Okay, if it’s just a second.”
Turning at the next left and slowing at a house with no vehicles, “Man, his mother Rachel must have left. They said they were going to Walmart; I must have just missed them. Sorry, about that, let’s get you home.”
“Thanks,” she said as they continued on as before.
“If I can ask, why were you walking alone? Your parents don’t pick you up.”
“They’re divorced. Mom has her own life and dad is always working. He says we’re old enough to fend for ourselves for a few hours before he comes dragging in.”
“Oh, I see. You said ‘we’?”
“Yeah my sister, Olivia and my brother Kevin, he’s in college, and never writes.”
“Oh, I see.” His eyes were always ahead. Slowing, he informed his young passenger, “Oh man, looks like construction. I’m sorry for the detour.”
She sighed at the obvious truth, “It’s alright. Stuff happens, wasn’t in a hurry but I should be getting home.” Seeing the darkening skies and noticing the time on her watch 3:48 PM. As the car slowed by an undeveloped wooded area, Jillian said, “You can let me off here I can just cut through the woods. There’s a Frisbee golf course with trails and the apartment is on the other side.”
Smiling at her, Jonas made sure his car’s door automatically unlocked, “Alright,” he then nodded a good-bye.
Leaning over and peering back into the car through the opened window, the red-haired girl beamed a grateful smile, “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hartman.”
The kindly older man returned her smile, “You are most welcome, Jillian. Be careful.”
Julian left the construction area and began cutting across the open filed that led to the wooded area and her apartments just beyond its trails. A few moments before she would be lost beyond view of the road she turned about and saw the driver was still grid locked in traffic, and gave a final wave; smiled at noticing its return. The brief downpour ended.
The ground beneath the thick canopy of trees was still dry within the woods. Jillian and Olivia loved cutting through them and exploring the various footed paths. It was not very long after she had entered, that she heard the sound of twinges snapping and the approach of someone else. The sight of Mr. Hartman dodging and swatting flies made Jillian smile, and shake her head. He was breathing heavily and out of breath. He looked out of place wearing slacks and dress shirt. As he looked up seeing her, she called out with a laugh, “Are you following me?”
Stumbling over a rock, the confused man admitted, “My car broke down, and I’ve never walked through here before. Feels like a jungle. Wow, can’t believe I’m lost right next to my own apartment, boy I feel dumb.”
The savvy fourteen year old’s confidence spurted, “It’s cool. I’ll show you a short cut and the long way over to the lake.”
Jonas, sighed a relief, “Thanks. It’s kind of neat in here.”
She smiled awkwardly, “Yeah.”
The trail came to a Y as the woods grew thicker. Jillian turned back around to ensure the older man had not gotten lost again. She saw him take out a silver hammer from his back pocket; it was a meat tenderizer. She asked, just as he was rose it as a weapon above his head, “What’s that for? What are you doing?”
He brought it down in a hard swing, cracking the young girl’s skull, instantly knocking her unconscious. Standing over her slumped form, Jonas looked down and answered, “Anything I want.”
CONTINUE Reading... 12
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
XI
It was an average day like any other when the world turned upside down. September the seventh of 2001 was a stunningly beautiful day, with just the barest wisps of clouds in the sky as the two girls walked home from school. Lake Cliff Junior High was only five blocks from their apartment, but it might as well have been a million. Jillian and her fourteen year old twin sister, Olivia was arguing along the way, and always about boys.
Olivia noticed her sister tuck a love-note into the back pocket of her blue jeans, “I don’t know what you see in him.”
With a blushing smile, she bobbed her head a bit and replied, “He’s cute, come on.”
Crossing the street leaving a group of other students behind, the twins caught up again on the opposite sidewalk. The younger one, by two minutes said, “Maybe, but his personality sucks, John Stevens is a real jerk, Jillian.”
“He’s a jerk only because he didn’t help you out with your locker combination, Olivia,” Jillian retorted sarcastically.
Olivia was trying to reason with her, “No. He’s a jerk because of the way he’s so two-faced with people. Like, when Jessica Stanford, Chelsea Glasgow, and Sandra –.”
Jillian scoffed a laughed at her sister’s resources, “Seriously, you’re going to list all the girls he likes, Olivia?”
Olivia tried to prove her point another way, “What I’m saying, silly is – more than one person at a time has told me things about the way –.”
But Jillian was put off by the offense, “You know what, don’t call me ‘silly’, and I’m like – just, so not interested in anything you have to say right now, alright?” With that, she stormed back across the street evading the conversation. Readjusting the shoulder straps on her backpack, Jillian sought an alternative route home to clear her head. The skies over head were growing darker. The seemingly unpredictable Texas weather was about to change. Jillian had walked an extra six blocks muttering to herself, then whispered aloud, “Oh wow, there’s Sandra Coke’s house, how the heck did I get this far?” She realized the time had gotten away from her, and it was getting late in the evening. No one else was around and the traffic in the outskirt community was quiet. Jillian turned around and started retracing her way back home, eleven blocks away.
As she did a baby blue Ford Mustang pulled up alongside of Jillian. From his window the driver calmly asked, “Starting to rain, need a lift?”
Jillian shuttered with the first pelting drops as well as being startled by a question from the silent road; she was still mad and answered sharply, “No. Leave me alone.”
The car met her pace as the smiling man ignored her tone, and asked, “Looks like it’s fixing to pour down any moment. Don’t want to catch the flu and miss school, now do you?”
Jillian was getting cold as the rain had indeed begun to come down harder. She certainly did not want to miss a chance at seeing her new love interest, so she conceded, “Alright, thanks.” The fourteen year old walked about the car and slid into the front seat of the stranger’s car. Keeping her backpack on she buckled up, and they were on their way. A few moments later Jillian asked the driver, “What’s your name?”
“Jonas Hartman,” he answered without hesitation and then asked, “I live in these apartments up ahead, and you?
Jillian informed him, “I live there too, building 17.”
Jonas smiled, “Oh, cool.” Then, looking into his rearview mirror noticing something in the backseat, regretfully injected, “I have to drop my friend’s son’s backpack off with his homework, it’ll only take a second, alright? He left it in the car. I’m so sorry; seriously it will only take a second.”
“Okay, if it’s just a second.”
Turning at the next left and slowing at a house with no vehicles, “Man, his mother Rachel must have left. They said they were going to Walmart; I must have just missed them. Sorry, about that, let’s get you home.”
“Thanks,” she said as they continued on as before.
“If I can ask, why were you walking alone? Your parents don’t pick you up.”
“They’re divorced. Mom has her own life and dad is always working. He says we’re old enough to fend for ourselves for a few hours before he comes dragging in.”
“Oh, I see. You said ‘we’?”
“Yeah my sister, Olivia and my brother Kevin, he’s in college, and never writes.”
“Oh, I see.” His eyes were always ahead. Slowing, he informed his young passenger, “Oh man, looks like construction. I’m sorry for the detour.”
She sighed at the obvious truth, “It’s alright. Stuff happens, wasn’t in a hurry but I should be getting home.” Seeing the darkening skies and noticing the time on her watch 3:48 PM. As the car slowed by an undeveloped wooded area, Jillian said, “You can let me off here I can just cut through the woods. There’s a Frisbee golf course with trails and the apartment is on the other side.”
Smiling at her, Jonas made sure his car’s door automatically unlocked, “Alright,” he then nodded a good-bye.
Leaning over and peering back into the car through the opened window, the red-haired girl beamed a grateful smile, “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hartman.”
The kindly older man returned her smile, “You are most welcome, Jillian. Be careful.”
Julian left the construction area and began cutting across the open filed that led to the wooded area and her apartments just beyond its trails. A few moments before she would be lost beyond view of the road she turned about and saw the driver was still grid locked in traffic, and gave a final wave; smiled at noticing its return. The brief downpour ended.
The ground beneath the thick canopy of trees was still dry within the woods. Jillian and Olivia loved cutting through them and exploring the various footed paths. It was not very long after she had entered, that she heard the sound of twinges snapping and the approach of someone else. The sight of Mr. Hartman dodging and swatting flies made Jillian smile, and shake her head. He was breathing heavily and out of breath. He looked out of place wearing slacks and dress shirt. As he looked up seeing her, she called out with a laugh, “Are you following me?”
Stumbling over a rock, the confused man admitted, “My car broke down, and I’ve never walked through here before. Feels like a jungle. Wow, can’t believe I’m lost right next to my own apartment, boy I feel dumb.”
The savvy fourteen year old’s confidence spurted, “It’s cool. I’ll show you a short cut and the long way over to the lake.”
Jonas, sighed a relief, “Thanks. It’s kind of neat in here.”
She smiled awkwardly, “Yeah.”
The trail came to a Y as the woods grew thicker. Jillian turned back around to ensure the older man had not gotten lost again. She saw him take out a silver hammer from his back pocket; it was a meat tenderizer. She asked, just as he was rose it as a weapon above his head, “What’s that for? What are you doing?”
He brought it down in a hard swing, cracking the young girl’s skull, instantly knocking her unconscious. Standing over her slumped form, Jonas looked down and answered, “Anything I want.”
CONTINUE Reading... 12
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
10
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
X
_____________________________________
The diary and all its dead secrets were too much for Jillian Henson. Her overwhelmed emotions were on the verge of breaking. The next morning Jillian gathered her things and stuffed the journal into her purse. She sighed aloud as she closed the door on her living room, “I suppose there won’t be any more visits after all, Olivia.” Jillian finally accepted the fact that she needed help in putting her past behind her in order to move forward.
Twenty minutes later and she was leaving her parked car. Entering the Lonnieville Police Department was like barging into the bustle of a hornet’s nest. Her thoughts were whirling as much as the pounding anxiety in her chest was escalating. Blue uniforms were scrambling back and forth in the white office. Behind the raised desk in front of her sat an older man who looked like he could have easily been chewing on a fat cigar. Without even looking up he grunted at her approaching, “Yep?”
Holding the journal up in the air, Jillian suddenly went pale, “I – I would like to report a murder.”
All heads in the house turned in her direction as the bustle came to a grinding halt. The desk sergeant looked up for the first time that day, “Say again…?”
Jillian’s squinted eyes looked baffling at the desk sergeant. His mouth was moving, but he was obviously not talking to her but to someone else in her direction. His words sounded like a jumbling of muffled gibberish spoken off in the distance. It was like a bee buzzing sound. She felt dizzy. The book slipped from her hand, and fell in slow motion. It fell but was nowhere to be found. As she turned to see to whom the Officer was speaking, an even more horrific feeling came over her at seeing who it was. She stood there frozen as the man calmly spoke with a blissful expression on his face.
It was George. It – was George. George was there, and very much alive and well. He was sitting in an office chair beside her, wearing his usual suit and blue tie that he wore as an Insurance agent. Acting like nothing was wrong, as though he had been sitting there the entire time.
In that very moment of seeing him smiling at her, Jillian asked him with the most angelic expression, “Did you know that God really has the face of a red Horney Toad, George?”
“What?”
“What,” She asked just as confused?
Though George was looking at her, his voice was replying to the man beyond her, “I loved her long before I even proposed marriage, and I have never regretted our time together since.” Yet, a second later and his expression began to melt into one of utter confusion as he added, “When – I came home from an out-of-town business trip, what I found looked like her whole world had crumbled apart. The stovetops were left on, the counters and both sinks were piled with ever dirty dish in the apartment. The water was running in the bath tub without a stopper, dog feces and urine were everywhere under the kitchen table, and both of Spencer’s bowls were empty. When I came in the house Spencer never got up to greet me; the dog was lying next to her, whimpering. Olivia was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with her arms wrapped about her legs rocking back and forth.” George shook his head, and looked directly at the police officer, “I am telling you, Doctor March I was seriously overwhelmed, and I’m still scared for her safety.”
The woman looked like her head was going to explode from all the conversation; Jillian turned back to face the police officer, but instead now saw the same man sitting on a stool with a laptop on a side-counter. His white lab coat was draped with a black and silver stethoscope. Jillian’s vision skipped a beat like a video missing frames. Her thoughts were scattered and she struggled to piece things together.
The Doctor somehow appeared less grim to her than he did a moment before. He looked at his patience saying, “It is very sad and unsettling to hear that Olivia has regressed after she had been making so much progress. George, you mentioned earlier before, that she lost her new job. Well, we can get an emergency court order to have her admitted today. We’ll keep her here for observation. But you need to know it will take some time before she will get to her baseline state as before.”
Doctor March looked the woman directly in her eyes and asked, as she began twirling her red-hair about a finger, “Can you explain how you came to think of George as the serial killer, Olivia?”
Olivia answered with a bored tone, “Of course George is not a serial killer. But that lady walking her dog in my field, I’m not too sure about. It’s like – removing all the bolts from the hub of a wheel, and replacing a flat tired with the good, and then putting each one of the nuts back on in a star formation. That’s how my father showed me how to leave the water running.”
The Doctor shot a glance to George, then after making a notation on his computer, asked his wife pointedly, “Do you realize that you are Olivia, and not you’re sister Jillian?”
Still twirling her finger about her teased hair, she began to laugh with a straight face, “Of course I realize that. My parents always got us confused because of our red hair. Dad said he knew it was me because I seldom smiled. It makes my head hurt to realize such things now, even the people in that little house are crying from my head aching so much.”
March and George both turned to see where she was pointing; they saw a sketch of the University on the diploma where the doctor had earned his degree.
The woman’s eyes dashed back and forth in-between their thinking faces. She really did wonder if it was the first time they had ever noticed the tiny people on the wall diplomas or if they were just testing her. The white coat man glanced over at his computer screen, then added, “I’ve been looking over her medical records and family history, a – Doctor Kremer noted that Olivia was actually the first responder on the scene to find her sister Jillian. The trauma of seeing that the killer had not buried her like the others must have cemented the onset of her condition.”
George lightly patted the woman’s hand, answering, “Yes, sir that’s right. Her twin sister was murdered when they were both fourteen years old. A year and a half later, Jonas Hartman was convicted of being a serial-killer. Jillian was the oldest of his five victims.”
The woman looked exhausted, and began a slow rhythmic rocking, striving to calm herself. She sat alongside the well-dressed man talking to the doctor. She knew they were talking about her and she heard their words, but it all seemed incorrect. Those things were out of context, she told herself; they had to be.
Doctor March summarized George’s wife’s situation, “Olivia had been diagnosed even before that event. This latest episode seems to have come on the anniversary of Jillian’s loss as a way of trying to cope or make sense of it, and somehow give everything else some kind of meaning. To be perfectly honest Mr. Henson I am not sure if this decline will be reversible. Her thoughts are in constant disarray – like all of the neglected house work you observed first hand. Like Autism, she’s living in another world of her own making, but everything is splintered together.”
George gave an almost bored sigh of his own. Her husband had heard all this before and he was aware of her disorder, but one thing kept nagging at him, “I suppose that ‘makes sense’ seeing that a serial killer doesn’t have remorse and she must have wanted this version of him to kill himself. But, Doctor, if I can ask, what is a ‘Planchette’? Olivia kept muttering it over and over, while slapping herself.”
He smiled at the quiet woman who sat with the blank expression, and then said as a matter of information, “It’s a French word that means ‘little plank’. A Planchette is the devise that players rest their fingers on when using a Ouija Board. It is just another symptom of her disorganized thoughts. The Planchette and even the journal itself, they were all just delusions of her schizophrenia, Mr. Henson. A part of her internal coping mechanism, nothing more than that I’m afraid to say.”
CONTINUE Reading... 11
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
X
_____________________________________
The diary and all its dead secrets were too much for Jillian Henson. Her overwhelmed emotions were on the verge of breaking. The next morning Jillian gathered her things and stuffed the journal into her purse. She sighed aloud as she closed the door on her living room, “I suppose there won’t be any more visits after all, Olivia.” Jillian finally accepted the fact that she needed help in putting her past behind her in order to move forward.
Twenty minutes later and she was leaving her parked car. Entering the Lonnieville Police Department was like barging into the bustle of a hornet’s nest. Her thoughts were whirling as much as the pounding anxiety in her chest was escalating. Blue uniforms were scrambling back and forth in the white office. Behind the raised desk in front of her sat an older man who looked like he could have easily been chewing on a fat cigar. Without even looking up he grunted at her approaching, “Yep?”
Holding the journal up in the air, Jillian suddenly went pale, “I – I would like to report a murder.”
All heads in the house turned in her direction as the bustle came to a grinding halt. The desk sergeant looked up for the first time that day, “Say again…?”
It was George. It – was George. George was there, and very much alive and well. He was sitting in an office chair beside her, wearing his usual suit and blue tie that he wore as an Insurance agent. Acting like nothing was wrong, as though he had been sitting there the entire time.
In that very moment of seeing him smiling at her, Jillian asked him with the most angelic expression, “Did you know that God really has the face of a red Horney Toad, George?”
“What?”
“What,” She asked just as confused?
Though George was looking at her, his voice was replying to the man beyond her, “I loved her long before I even proposed marriage, and I have never regretted our time together since.” Yet, a second later and his expression began to melt into one of utter confusion as he added, “When – I came home from an out-of-town business trip, what I found looked like her whole world had crumbled apart. The stovetops were left on, the counters and both sinks were piled with ever dirty dish in the apartment. The water was running in the bath tub without a stopper, dog feces and urine were everywhere under the kitchen table, and both of Spencer’s bowls were empty. When I came in the house Spencer never got up to greet me; the dog was lying next to her, whimpering. Olivia was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with her arms wrapped about her legs rocking back and forth.” George shook his head, and looked directly at the police officer, “I am telling you, Doctor March I was seriously overwhelmed, and I’m still scared for her safety.”
The woman looked like her head was going to explode from all the conversation; Jillian turned back to face the police officer, but instead now saw the same man sitting on a stool with a laptop on a side-counter. His white lab coat was draped with a black and silver stethoscope. Jillian’s vision skipped a beat like a video missing frames. Her thoughts were scattered and she struggled to piece things together.
The Doctor somehow appeared less grim to her than he did a moment before. He looked at his patience saying, “It is very sad and unsettling to hear that Olivia has regressed after she had been making so much progress. George, you mentioned earlier before, that she lost her new job. Well, we can get an emergency court order to have her admitted today. We’ll keep her here for observation. But you need to know it will take some time before she will get to her baseline state as before.”
Doctor March looked the woman directly in her eyes and asked, as she began twirling her red-hair about a finger, “Can you explain how you came to think of George as the serial killer, Olivia?”
Olivia answered with a bored tone, “Of course George is not a serial killer. But that lady walking her dog in my field, I’m not too sure about. It’s like – removing all the bolts from the hub of a wheel, and replacing a flat tired with the good, and then putting each one of the nuts back on in a star formation. That’s how my father showed me how to leave the water running.”
The Doctor shot a glance to George, then after making a notation on his computer, asked his wife pointedly, “Do you realize that you are Olivia, and not you’re sister Jillian?”
Still twirling her finger about her teased hair, she began to laugh with a straight face, “Of course I realize that. My parents always got us confused because of our red hair. Dad said he knew it was me because I seldom smiled. It makes my head hurt to realize such things now, even the people in that little house are crying from my head aching so much.”
March and George both turned to see where she was pointing; they saw a sketch of the University on the diploma where the doctor had earned his degree.
The woman’s eyes dashed back and forth in-between their thinking faces. She really did wonder if it was the first time they had ever noticed the tiny people on the wall diplomas or if they were just testing her. The white coat man glanced over at his computer screen, then added, “I’ve been looking over her medical records and family history, a – Doctor Kremer noted that Olivia was actually the first responder on the scene to find her sister Jillian. The trauma of seeing that the killer had not buried her like the others must have cemented the onset of her condition.”
George lightly patted the woman’s hand, answering, “Yes, sir that’s right. Her twin sister was murdered when they were both fourteen years old. A year and a half later, Jonas Hartman was convicted of being a serial-killer. Jillian was the oldest of his five victims.”
The woman looked exhausted, and began a slow rhythmic rocking, striving to calm herself. She sat alongside the well-dressed man talking to the doctor. She knew they were talking about her and she heard their words, but it all seemed incorrect. Those things were out of context, she told herself; they had to be.
Doctor March summarized George’s wife’s situation, “Olivia had been diagnosed even before that event. This latest episode seems to have come on the anniversary of Jillian’s loss as a way of trying to cope or make sense of it, and somehow give everything else some kind of meaning. To be perfectly honest Mr. Henson I am not sure if this decline will be reversible. Her thoughts are in constant disarray – like all of the neglected house work you observed first hand. Like Autism, she’s living in another world of her own making, but everything is splintered together.”
George gave an almost bored sigh of his own. Her husband had heard all this before and he was aware of her disorder, but one thing kept nagging at him, “I suppose that ‘makes sense’ seeing that a serial killer doesn’t have remorse and she must have wanted this version of him to kill himself. But, Doctor, if I can ask, what is a ‘Planchette’? Olivia kept muttering it over and over, while slapping herself.”
He smiled at the quiet woman who sat with the blank expression, and then said as a matter of information, “It’s a French word that means ‘little plank’. A Planchette is the devise that players rest their fingers on when using a Ouija Board. It is just another symptom of her disorganized thoughts. The Planchette and even the journal itself, they were all just delusions of her schizophrenia, Mr. Henson. A part of her internal coping mechanism, nothing more than that I’m afraid to say.”
CONTINUE Reading... 11
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
9
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
IX
______________________________________
Jillian's eyes hurt from being so wide as she couldn't stop reading the familiar scribble on the page in front of her..
“April 9th …searching – finding – killing – disposal was the least inviting but most important… but maybe others will appreciate the spectacle of my display…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The brown haired man’s greatest masterpiece to date was laid out before him. He amazed himself at his own perfection, each time was better than the last. From his kneeing position, there in the woods it felt like a temple or secluded holy site where he alone was at the center of bliss! The exhilarated high of adrenaline still rushed through his veins as he now turned his attention to the other matter; less thrilling, ugly mundane but most necessary. He removed the folded shovel from his gym bag, which he had brought earlier with him, along with the girl’s backpack as he carried her off into the woods.
The sweaty, blood soaked, brown haired man dug three holes and ensured they were deep. They were several feet apart from one another. In two of them went the girl’s parts in the third he threw her backpack and clothes; he kept her yellow sundress as a token of the occasion. Then he undressed and redressed into the new ones he brought with him. After pouring gasoline over everything, even a cadaver dog would not be able to sniff it out, he thought to himself. The holes were then covered and camouflaged with leaves like the surrounding area.
Moments later he emerged from the woods with the red haired girls flavors still on his thoughts and a smile on his face as he headed to his car. Crossing the empty culvert the driver placed his things back into the car’s trunk. Before getting back into his vehicle he squatted for another look at the right rear wheel. Not flat but it could use some air. Off in the distance he saw another car approaching, and stayed where he was for a moment longer. It was a Police vehicle.
After the car came to a rolling stop the officer got out. Still standing behind his own opened door he called out to the stranger, “What seems to be the problem?”
“Thought it was a flat, just needs air.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To San Angelo, for a job interview with a TV station; I’m the weather man,” he froze in a hero’s pose, showing his pearly whites and square chin.
The Cop scoffed a laugh, gave a two finger salute from the brim of his hat and said, “Well, good luck to you, careful on the road.”
“Thanks, and thanks for making sure I was alright,” the driver said as he readjusted the full Winsor knot of his dark blue tie.
The officer reentered his squad car, and sat there as the driver ahead returned behind his wheel, and then was on his way. After they both passed a tiny trailer home, a half mile down the road, the Police car’s lights lit up and the sirens blared on. The Mustang ahead began to slow down and pull over. The driver’s hand reached for a knife from deep within the cushion beside him. Suddenly, the patrol car behind him made a squealing turnabout and sped down the road from where he came, leaving the Ford to plan his next adventure.
CONTINUE Reading... 10
_____________________________________________
IX
Jillian's eyes hurt from being so wide as she couldn't stop reading the familiar scribble on the page in front of her..
“April 9th …searching – finding – killing – disposal was the least inviting but most important… but maybe others will appreciate the spectacle of my display…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The brown haired man’s greatest masterpiece to date was laid out before him. He amazed himself at his own perfection, each time was better than the last. From his kneeing position, there in the woods it felt like a temple or secluded holy site where he alone was at the center of bliss! The exhilarated high of adrenaline still rushed through his veins as he now turned his attention to the other matter; less thrilling, ugly mundane but most necessary. He removed the folded shovel from his gym bag, which he had brought earlier with him, along with the girl’s backpack as he carried her off into the woods.
The sweaty, blood soaked, brown haired man dug three holes and ensured they were deep. They were several feet apart from one another. In two of them went the girl’s parts in the third he threw her backpack and clothes; he kept her yellow sundress as a token of the occasion. Then he undressed and redressed into the new ones he brought with him. After pouring gasoline over everything, even a cadaver dog would not be able to sniff it out, he thought to himself. The holes were then covered and camouflaged with leaves like the surrounding area.
Moments later he emerged from the woods with the red haired girls flavors still on his thoughts and a smile on his face as he headed to his car. Crossing the empty culvert the driver placed his things back into the car’s trunk. Before getting back into his vehicle he squatted for another look at the right rear wheel. Not flat but it could use some air. Off in the distance he saw another car approaching, and stayed where he was for a moment longer. It was a Police vehicle.
After the car came to a rolling stop the officer got out. Still standing behind his own opened door he called out to the stranger, “What seems to be the problem?”
“Thought it was a flat, just needs air.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To San Angelo, for a job interview with a TV station; I’m the weather man,” he froze in a hero’s pose, showing his pearly whites and square chin.
The Cop scoffed a laugh, gave a two finger salute from the brim of his hat and said, “Well, good luck to you, careful on the road.”
“Thanks, and thanks for making sure I was alright,” the driver said as he readjusted the full Winsor knot of his dark blue tie.
The officer reentered his squad car, and sat there as the driver ahead returned behind his wheel, and then was on his way. After they both passed a tiny trailer home, a half mile down the road, the Police car’s lights lit up and the sirens blared on. The Mustang ahead began to slow down and pull over. The driver’s hand reached for a knife from deep within the cushion beside him. Suddenly, the patrol car behind him made a squealing turnabout and sped down the road from where he came, leaving the Ford to plan his next adventure.
CONTINUE Reading... 10
_____________________________________________
8
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
VIII
____________________________________
“March 10th …searching – finding – killing is only part of the excitement; the real fun was the taboo of tasting…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The well-to-do suburban neighborhood was a picturesque scene right out of a movie. With its yellow green leaves beginning to bud on the springtime trees, kids riding their bikes along the streets, and lawns being watered on a Saturday morning; made everything seem all was right in the world.
Meanwhile a blue and white Police car slowly turned off 28th street in search of an address of the unsuspecting family. The north side of Fort Worth was about to get a wakeup call. After slowing down a bit, the driver continued on for another two blocks.
His passenger asked, “Wasn’t that the house back there, Sargent?”
“Yep,” the driver answered as he put his hat on, called their stop in to dispatch, and then exited the vehicle. Adding to his partner, over the hood-lights of the car, “We best walk this one in rookie, and talk a bit before we get there.”
“Alright,” the eager to please trainee replied.
Rounding the car, they both joined up on the sidewalk side by side, their pace was not quite a fast as the newbie had grown accustomed to, and wondered what the change was about. The experienced officer asked, “How long have you been on the force now Rodrigues?”
“Four weeks and two days out of the Academy, sir.” The snap answer was well rehearsed with pride, the senior could tell.
The sergeant’s scoffed exhale recalled his own eager freshness a thousand years before, “Hum, It was less than that when I gave my first notice.”
“Yes Sargent Wilson.”
“Shoe its hardest part of the job if anyone asked me. The average Joe citizen out here thinks we are impervious to everything, even emotions. We’re not, Rodrigues, remember that, we’re not. You just have to compartmentalize and stay focus on the bigger picture – it’s a tight rope only you can figure out.”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, you’re up, this is your first death notice and I’m sure you’ve memorized all the right steps and procedures so – don’t screw it up.”
“No sir I won’t.”
“Oh, and don’t tell that mother in there every little detail of the case you think you know either. She doesn’t need to know her only daughter was butchered in half with by an ax murderer, like the Black Dahlia back in the 40’s.”
There was hesitation in the younger man’s voice, “No sir.”
Then, two houses before their destination the Training Officer stopped and added, “Oh, and for God’s sake, Rodrigues don’t tell her that the perp cut out, and ate her private parts either.”
“No –.” A second later and the image caught up to him. The Rookie lunged for the fence and burst out vomiting, sputtering, “Sorry, Sarg.”
The older man shook his head, “I’m sorry I have to be the one to deliver the news too. Let me know when you’re ready, son.”
CONTINUE Reading... 9
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
VIII
“March 10th …searching – finding – killing is only part of the excitement; the real fun was the taboo of tasting…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The well-to-do suburban neighborhood was a picturesque scene right out of a movie. With its yellow green leaves beginning to bud on the springtime trees, kids riding their bikes along the streets, and lawns being watered on a Saturday morning; made everything seem all was right in the world.
Meanwhile a blue and white Police car slowly turned off 28th street in search of an address of the unsuspecting family. The north side of Fort Worth was about to get a wakeup call. After slowing down a bit, the driver continued on for another two blocks.
His passenger asked, “Wasn’t that the house back there, Sargent?”
“Yep,” the driver answered as he put his hat on, called their stop in to dispatch, and then exited the vehicle. Adding to his partner, over the hood-lights of the car, “We best walk this one in rookie, and talk a bit before we get there.”
“Alright,” the eager to please trainee replied.
Rounding the car, they both joined up on the sidewalk side by side, their pace was not quite a fast as the newbie had grown accustomed to, and wondered what the change was about. The experienced officer asked, “How long have you been on the force now Rodrigues?”
“Four weeks and two days out of the Academy, sir.” The snap answer was well rehearsed with pride, the senior could tell.
The sergeant’s scoffed exhale recalled his own eager freshness a thousand years before, “Hum, It was less than that when I gave my first notice.”
“Yes Sargent Wilson.”
“Shoe its hardest part of the job if anyone asked me. The average Joe citizen out here thinks we are impervious to everything, even emotions. We’re not, Rodrigues, remember that, we’re not. You just have to compartmentalize and stay focus on the bigger picture – it’s a tight rope only you can figure out.”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, you’re up, this is your first death notice and I’m sure you’ve memorized all the right steps and procedures so – don’t screw it up.”
“No sir I won’t.”
“Oh, and don’t tell that mother in there every little detail of the case you think you know either. She doesn’t need to know her only daughter was butchered in half with by an ax murderer, like the Black Dahlia back in the 40’s.”
There was hesitation in the younger man’s voice, “No sir.”
Then, two houses before their destination the Training Officer stopped and added, “Oh, and for God’s sake, Rodrigues don’t tell her that the perp cut out, and ate her private parts either.”
“No –.” A second later and the image caught up to him. The Rookie lunged for the fence and burst out vomiting, sputtering, “Sorry, Sarg.”
The older man shook his head, “I’m sorry I have to be the one to deliver the news too. Let me know when you’re ready, son.”
CONTINUE Reading... 9
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
7
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
VII
__________________________________________
Jillian read the date and entry of the book she had found.
“February 11th …searching – finding that perfect one is the real ticket. Today… it was nice to shut up such a talkative one… sounding like a yelping mutt…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The driver clicked the automatic unlock on the car door, and with that the blonde slid into the seat beside him saying, “Thank you so much for the ride, you’ve no idea how much this helps.” She started to position her backpack between her knees on the floor.
The brown haired man got the shoulder strap, lifted and placed the bag in his back seat, “There ya go now you have more room. Sorry for the small car.”
Her very short, sun dress was nearly see-through. She beamed a thank you, and began playing with her red hair saying, “I was watching LOST, last night, and didn’t even realize the weather was recorded a while back. I totally missed the cold front coming in today. I didn’t even grab my jacket.”
She’s going to be a chatty one, oh great, he thought to himself, but offered a considerate glance nevertheless.
“My name is Jenifer by the way. I hope it’s not out of your way, but I live on the out skirts of town; yeah, this one.” She informed his questioning nod for a street direction. The young lady played with the multiple thin bracelets of her left hand, he noticed that her cheap nail polish was chipping and there were rings on all her fingers.
Just as he was going to give a fake name the girl announced, “My Aunt Cheryl is there waiting on me, she’s a hoot, a little on the weird side. But I love her. She’s paranoid about Alien abductions and time travel terrorist; seriously I think she just watches way too much television.”
The city was quickly behind them and the road stretched on in silence for a few winding miles as the skies grew paler. A moment later and the student announced, “Up here on the right you can make a turn, my trailer is the only house for the next three miles. It’s beautiful out here, but I’d rather live in the city. Wow, I really do appreciate this, wish I hadn’t missed the bus.”
The ash-gray skies looked like it was on the verge of snowing, but instead a heavy mist clouded the windshield. The temperatures were dropping as the Ford Mustang crept down the backroads. Ahead a quarter mile on the right was the private drive he was to turn on but the car made a detour pulling over to the side of the road near a run-off ditch. Scoffing a frustrated sigh the driver announced, “Man, I’m sorry, seems I got a flat tire.”
“Oh,” his blonde passenger exclaimed, “I didn’t even realize anything happened.” She was utterly surprised.
The older man unbuckled his belt informing her, “It’ll only be a moment, promise it won’t take much effort.”
As he began to exit the vehicle she also started to unbuckle, and injected with a smile, “It’s alright I can see my trailer house from here, I’ll just walk it.”
“No please,” he warmly smiled at her with a worried laugh, “Now that I got you this far I should at least be allowed to be a gentleman and get the all the way. Besides, the rain is starting to come down harder and you don’t need to be getting sick and miss classes.” His pleasant demeanor let her know that it was no disposition and so she settled back in her seat; he nodded a thanks.
Leaving the warmth of the car he got out into the cold of the country road. Rounding to the back, popping the trunk he gathered the items needed for the task at hand: jack, spare, and tire iron – the essentials. The other essentials would wait a little longer for the right timing. Going to the right rear wheel, he squatted for a closer inspection of the situation; he knew she was observing him, they always did. The rain continued, not as hard as he said. Beyond where the car was parked, beside an area of the asphalt’s broken street, laid a dirt culvert which was quickly filling up with run-off water, and beyond the brief clearing was a woodland thicket. The closest neighbors were miles away and the seclusion was a beautiful scene on any given day. ‘We’re certainly in the middle-of-nowhere,’ he muttered under his breath, noticing the girl smile back at him from the car door’s side mirror. Standing back up he went to her door and lightly tapped on the window, pointing down to its lock. After she cracked it, he opened the door all the way saying, “Sorry, Jennifer but I’m afraid with all this rain any movement on the jack and the car could –.”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, “I’ll just get my stuff and let ya –.”
“Nah, it won’t take long. You can just stand here a second, like I said, don’t need you getting soaked before you get home.” That smile made her comply again, so she left her school pack in the back seat and got out of the car. He added, “It’ll all be over in a bit.”
She stood in the gap of the opened door as her slick sandals edged precariously near the culvert’s muddy slope. As the driver resumed his place near the rear of the car, a glance down the road saw her trailer home in a sheeting haze of rain quickly arriving. Soon her thin sun dress was drenched and clinging to her thin frame like a bathing suit. Nervously distracted with the bangles on her wrist, the girl instantly regretted leaving home that morning without having grabbed her jacket. Looking back at the driver, who was doing nothing, but looking at the wheel she asked, “Hey, are you sure it’s even flat, it looks good to me?”
He stalled a second as he switched the tire iron from one hand to the other, and then turned back to her with, “Oh, I guess it’s alright after all. I’ll just put this away.” Then, looking at how the sundress was clinging to her thin, rain-soaked body, he added, “Yep, looks like this won’t take long at all.”
Catching his inference, and how he kept readjusting his single grip of the tire iron made her green eyes widen with fear, “Uh, it’s alright mister, I can just walk from here to my trailer house, it’s just up the road a piece. My aunt is waiting on me anyway.” As she stepped back, to evade whatever it was that was on his mind, the blonde girl’s sandals slipped off the crumbling street. In that same instance, that she began to fall backward into the watery ditch, the bar in the driver’s hand took a hard swing in her direction. The momentum of both met with a loud cracking blow. A second later and the slow motion of it all sped up with her limp form splashing into the muck beside him in real time. With a sigh, his smirk grew into a broad smile, “See; not as long as I thought, now time to get to work.”
CONTINUE Reading... 8
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
VII
Jillian read the date and entry of the book she had found.
“February 11th …searching – finding that perfect one is the real ticket. Today… it was nice to shut up such a talkative one… sounding like a yelping mutt…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The driver clicked the automatic unlock on the car door, and with that the blonde slid into the seat beside him saying, “Thank you so much for the ride, you’ve no idea how much this helps.” She started to position her backpack between her knees on the floor.
The brown haired man got the shoulder strap, lifted and placed the bag in his back seat, “There ya go now you have more room. Sorry for the small car.”
Her very short, sun dress was nearly see-through. She beamed a thank you, and began playing with her red hair saying, “I was watching LOST, last night, and didn’t even realize the weather was recorded a while back. I totally missed the cold front coming in today. I didn’t even grab my jacket.”
She’s going to be a chatty one, oh great, he thought to himself, but offered a considerate glance nevertheless.
“My name is Jenifer by the way. I hope it’s not out of your way, but I live on the out skirts of town; yeah, this one.” She informed his questioning nod for a street direction. The young lady played with the multiple thin bracelets of her left hand, he noticed that her cheap nail polish was chipping and there were rings on all her fingers.
Just as he was going to give a fake name the girl announced, “My Aunt Cheryl is there waiting on me, she’s a hoot, a little on the weird side. But I love her. She’s paranoid about Alien abductions and time travel terrorist; seriously I think she just watches way too much television.”
The city was quickly behind them and the road stretched on in silence for a few winding miles as the skies grew paler. A moment later and the student announced, “Up here on the right you can make a turn, my trailer is the only house for the next three miles. It’s beautiful out here, but I’d rather live in the city. Wow, I really do appreciate this, wish I hadn’t missed the bus.”
The ash-gray skies looked like it was on the verge of snowing, but instead a heavy mist clouded the windshield. The temperatures were dropping as the Ford Mustang crept down the backroads. Ahead a quarter mile on the right was the private drive he was to turn on but the car made a detour pulling over to the side of the road near a run-off ditch. Scoffing a frustrated sigh the driver announced, “Man, I’m sorry, seems I got a flat tire.”
“Oh,” his blonde passenger exclaimed, “I didn’t even realize anything happened.” She was utterly surprised.
The older man unbuckled his belt informing her, “It’ll only be a moment, promise it won’t take much effort.”
As he began to exit the vehicle she also started to unbuckle, and injected with a smile, “It’s alright I can see my trailer house from here, I’ll just walk it.”
“No please,” he warmly smiled at her with a worried laugh, “Now that I got you this far I should at least be allowed to be a gentleman and get the all the way. Besides, the rain is starting to come down harder and you don’t need to be getting sick and miss classes.” His pleasant demeanor let her know that it was no disposition and so she settled back in her seat; he nodded a thanks.
Leaving the warmth of the car he got out into the cold of the country road. Rounding to the back, popping the trunk he gathered the items needed for the task at hand: jack, spare, and tire iron – the essentials. The other essentials would wait a little longer for the right timing. Going to the right rear wheel, he squatted for a closer inspection of the situation; he knew she was observing him, they always did. The rain continued, not as hard as he said. Beyond where the car was parked, beside an area of the asphalt’s broken street, laid a dirt culvert which was quickly filling up with run-off water, and beyond the brief clearing was a woodland thicket. The closest neighbors were miles away and the seclusion was a beautiful scene on any given day. ‘We’re certainly in the middle-of-nowhere,’ he muttered under his breath, noticing the girl smile back at him from the car door’s side mirror. Standing back up he went to her door and lightly tapped on the window, pointing down to its lock. After she cracked it, he opened the door all the way saying, “Sorry, Jennifer but I’m afraid with all this rain any movement on the jack and the car could –.”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted, “I’ll just get my stuff and let ya –.”
“Nah, it won’t take long. You can just stand here a second, like I said, don’t need you getting soaked before you get home.” That smile made her comply again, so she left her school pack in the back seat and got out of the car. He added, “It’ll all be over in a bit.”
She stood in the gap of the opened door as her slick sandals edged precariously near the culvert’s muddy slope. As the driver resumed his place near the rear of the car, a glance down the road saw her trailer home in a sheeting haze of rain quickly arriving. Soon her thin sun dress was drenched and clinging to her thin frame like a bathing suit. Nervously distracted with the bangles on her wrist, the girl instantly regretted leaving home that morning without having grabbed her jacket. Looking back at the driver, who was doing nothing, but looking at the wheel she asked, “Hey, are you sure it’s even flat, it looks good to me?”
He stalled a second as he switched the tire iron from one hand to the other, and then turned back to her with, “Oh, I guess it’s alright after all. I’ll just put this away.” Then, looking at how the sundress was clinging to her thin, rain-soaked body, he added, “Yep, looks like this won’t take long at all.”
Catching his inference, and how he kept readjusting his single grip of the tire iron made her green eyes widen with fear, “Uh, it’s alright mister, I can just walk from here to my trailer house, it’s just up the road a piece. My aunt is waiting on me anyway.” As she stepped back, to evade whatever it was that was on his mind, the blonde girl’s sandals slipped off the crumbling street. In that same instance, that she began to fall backward into the watery ditch, the bar in the driver’s hand took a hard swing in her direction. The momentum of both met with a loud cracking blow. A second later and the slow motion of it all sped up with her limp form splashing into the muck beside him in real time. With a sigh, his smirk grew into a broad smile, “See; not as long as I thought, now time to get to work.”
CONTINUE Reading... 8
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
6
THE SPLINTERED PLANTCHETTE
VI
______________________________________
..... Her thoughts fought against trying to decipher the hurriedly scripted handwriting, and the feeling that it was actually, somehow very familiar. Jillian became nauseous with it the more she read. It appeared to be a diary written in very graphic detail by a rather sick individual.
“January 12th …searching - for a person willing, interested, and yet controllable is a challenge and exciting. Some rides are too brief…I took the day off and drove around the seedier parts of Fort Worth. Saw a few prospects. One I watched for 30 min… a black girl with a college backpack ... she noticed me…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The older brown haired man had given himself a time frame in which to have some – fun. He was either bored or driven, they played on one another it seemed and it had grown into an obsession; a burning rage. That obsession was about to become more than simply picking up strange women. Today he would burst through that glass ceiling and taste the ultimate taboo for himself. The driver circled another block as he listened to Alan Parsons Project’s Eye to eye. He felt more ‘damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t’ than he did singing along with the ‘I long you’ part.
Up ahead he saw a thin, blonde hair thing balancing a cute walk along on the curb. With outstretched arms she flew in her own imaginary world for a blissful moment. His excitement began to mount. Yet, as the driver came alongside the cute tightrope walker, another older man approached and called her by name. The driver’s smile faded as she joyously turned about with ‘Daddy’! The Ford Mustang began to pull away from the curb, only to restart his scouting mission. Disappointed, but that was the nature of the game he played.
Letting out a dissatisfied sigh, he cruised through the green light. The driver’s plotting hopes began to rise again upon seeing a sleek pair of beautiful legs up ahead. They were jutting out and were all he could see from the sheltered bus stop. As he came alongside the covered bench, he saw the owner’s amazing body and his interest was captivated. The African girl was trying to fit in as an American, which made his grin broaden into a wide smile. Her huge hooped earrings, frayed short shorts, sandals, and sporting earbuds connected to her smart phone reeked of youth. Her huge afro rose up just in time to catch his nod.
An impatient driver behind the Mustang began honking that the light had changed and he was unwilling to witness the stalled traffic any longer. The Mustang’s driver turned right. In that skittish moment the older man hoped that he had not lost this exciting prospect to an arriving bus by the time he was able to circle another block. Fifteen minutes of his allotted hour was already spent searching for her. Still, if that proved the case he would keep a keen eye out for any other hopefuls along the way. Two and now rounding a third right hand turn; he went as fast as he could. Yet, the bumper to bumper traffic was driving him crazy. His eyes lit up upon seeing the long legs in short shorts meandering about the street light beyond the building’s edge. She was peering in his direction; he hoped. The brown haired man’s chest pounded loudly, as did something else.
The eroding away of his hour window had suddenly became meaningless as her smile exploded upon seeing his car’s approach. The slow advance gave his reeling thoughts time to plan out how to toss her backpack into the backseat. His smile was on devising an excuse to buckle her in while brushing against those amazing bare legs. The college student looked eager for a ride, and had grown bored with bus waiting; he was more than willing to provide the lift. Everything was about to get real as she leaned through his open car window.
CONTINUE Reading... 7
____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
VI
______________________________________
..... Her thoughts fought against trying to decipher the hurriedly scripted handwriting, and the feeling that it was actually, somehow very familiar. Jillian became nauseous with it the more she read. It appeared to be a diary written in very graphic detail by a rather sick individual.
“January 12th …searching - for a person willing, interested, and yet controllable is a challenge and exciting. Some rides are too brief…I took the day off and drove around the seedier parts of Fort Worth. Saw a few prospects. One I watched for 30 min… a black girl with a college backpack ... she noticed me…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The older brown haired man had given himself a time frame in which to have some – fun. He was either bored or driven, they played on one another it seemed and it had grown into an obsession; a burning rage. That obsession was about to become more than simply picking up strange women. Today he would burst through that glass ceiling and taste the ultimate taboo for himself. The driver circled another block as he listened to Alan Parsons Project’s Eye to eye. He felt more ‘damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t’ than he did singing along with the ‘I long you’ part.
Up ahead he saw a thin, blonde hair thing balancing a cute walk along on the curb. With outstretched arms she flew in her own imaginary world for a blissful moment. His excitement began to mount. Yet, as the driver came alongside the cute tightrope walker, another older man approached and called her by name. The driver’s smile faded as she joyously turned about with ‘Daddy’! The Ford Mustang began to pull away from the curb, only to restart his scouting mission. Disappointed, but that was the nature of the game he played.
Letting out a dissatisfied sigh, he cruised through the green light. The driver’s plotting hopes began to rise again upon seeing a sleek pair of beautiful legs up ahead. They were jutting out and were all he could see from the sheltered bus stop. As he came alongside the covered bench, he saw the owner’s amazing body and his interest was captivated. The African girl was trying to fit in as an American, which made his grin broaden into a wide smile. Her huge hooped earrings, frayed short shorts, sandals, and sporting earbuds connected to her smart phone reeked of youth. Her huge afro rose up just in time to catch his nod.
An impatient driver behind the Mustang began honking that the light had changed and he was unwilling to witness the stalled traffic any longer. The Mustang’s driver turned right. In that skittish moment the older man hoped that he had not lost this exciting prospect to an arriving bus by the time he was able to circle another block. Fifteen minutes of his allotted hour was already spent searching for her. Still, if that proved the case he would keep a keen eye out for any other hopefuls along the way. Two and now rounding a third right hand turn; he went as fast as he could. Yet, the bumper to bumper traffic was driving him crazy. His eyes lit up upon seeing the long legs in short shorts meandering about the street light beyond the building’s edge. She was peering in his direction; he hoped. The brown haired man’s chest pounded loudly, as did something else.
The eroding away of his hour window had suddenly became meaningless as her smile exploded upon seeing his car’s approach. The slow advance gave his reeling thoughts time to plan out how to toss her backpack into the backseat. His smile was on devising an excuse to buckle her in while brushing against those amazing bare legs. The college student looked eager for a ride, and had grown bored with bus waiting; he was more than willing to provide the lift. Everything was about to get real as she leaned through his open car window.
CONTINUE Reading... 7
____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
5
THE SPLINTERED PLANTCHETTE
V
__________________________________________
Spencer was restless with the air conditioner off. The apartment’s electricity had been disconnected for none payment. Another reason Jillian wanted the Insurance funds in the bank soon. Her mind was flooded with worry. It was difficult enough trying to find a new job and now she struggled to get any rest. She tossed about in in her sleep. Jillian woke up in the middle of the night to a hysterical pounding on her front door. Peering through the peep-hole she saw a red hair young girl with no clothes on, and franticly yelling for help. Upon opening the door, the frightened child was nowhere to be seen as Jillian was blinded by the afternoon sunlight. In that moment her alarm clock sounded.
The unsettling nightmare stayed with Jillian Henson throughout most of her morning routine. By the time she had begun making breakfast, other thoughts allowed her to forget the dream from the night before. She finally busied herself with going through George’s things and found that most of his personal effects were items she really had no use for, such as: cologne, ties, undergarments, work-related paperwork, or his science-fiction toy collection. There was very little if anything she even kept. Eight trash bags later, and they either went into the dumpster or to Good Will. By late afternoon her clean house was decorated and furnished with things that only spoke of her. By the time she was done no one would have ever known that George or any other man for that matter had ever been in her apartment. Well, other than Spencer and he would always be in her life.
Cleaning out the bathroom medicine cabinet, Jillian came across a used bottle of Vicks rub, outdated prescriptions of Clozapine and Fanapt, and an empty box of Viagra; then she found the new bottle of Midol she had really been searching for. Before doing anything with them, she was interrupted when the phone rang. In answering it, she listened to an automated voice notifying her to claim George’s cremains from the funeral home before five o’clock. The message halted any of her efforts in trying to move forward with a new life. Her long inhale and frustrated exhale accentuated the reality that closure had not yet come. Seeing that it was nearing three-thirty, she decided to take the Brittany spaniel for another walk, before she went to Jonas & Hartman Brothers Memorial; something she dreaded doing in the first place.
Jillian found that she was pleasantly alone again in the open field that introduced the trail-laced wooden area, near her apartment complex. Spencer was eager for the high-stepping exploits of being one with nature again. She knew the walk would have to be a brief one and so did not venture far beyond the boundary of the parking lot’s edge. Suddenly, from behind her a little boy ran passed. He bumped her arm jarring her hold of Spencer’s leash. The dog bounded after the sprinter. Near the tree-line’s break, where a trail’s entrance lay, both the dog and child stopped. The boy gave a taunting laugh at her and then darted into the woods. Interested, only in retrieving her pet, Jillian pursued the canine who complied with her command to stay. Claiming the leash, and glancing beyond the clearing of trees, the dog-owner did not see the boy anywhere. Instead, Jillian caught a glimpse of the same red-haired girl from her dream; this time she was wearing a bright yellow sun-dress with bangles on her wrist. There was a crimson stain growing on her right side as the young lady floated out of view. Spencer began barking after her, as Jillian cautiously went down the footed path. The canopy of green darkened the further she went into the shadowy woods.
Abruptly running into her dog, Jillian asked, “What is it now?” Looking down she saw him sniffing at a book that had been placed beneath a large rock. Taking the odd find, she quickly thumbed through its crinkling pages. Giving a loud sigh, she told Spencer, “Well, I can’t read it in this light, boy. Besides, I need to get back home and turn off that bath water.”
After picking up a brown package, which contained the plastic box filled with George’s ashes, Jillian returned home feeling physically and emotionally drained. Pouring herself a glass of tea, she sat in her recliner and begun a closer inspection of the book she had literally stumbled upon earlier. Its pages were dirty and weather-worn. Each was filled with a scribbling of detailed notes and disjointed diagrams of street addresses. Her thoughts fought against trying to decipher the hurriedly scripted handwriting, and the feeling that it was actually, somehow very familiar. Jillian became nauseous with it the more she read. It appeared to be a diary written in very graphic detail by a rather sick individual.
CONTINUE Reading... 6
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
V
Spencer was restless with the air conditioner off. The apartment’s electricity had been disconnected for none payment. Another reason Jillian wanted the Insurance funds in the bank soon. Her mind was flooded with worry. It was difficult enough trying to find a new job and now she struggled to get any rest. She tossed about in in her sleep. Jillian woke up in the middle of the night to a hysterical pounding on her front door. Peering through the peep-hole she saw a red hair young girl with no clothes on, and franticly yelling for help. Upon opening the door, the frightened child was nowhere to be seen as Jillian was blinded by the afternoon sunlight. In that moment her alarm clock sounded.
The unsettling nightmare stayed with Jillian Henson throughout most of her morning routine. By the time she had begun making breakfast, other thoughts allowed her to forget the dream from the night before. She finally busied herself with going through George’s things and found that most of his personal effects were items she really had no use for, such as: cologne, ties, undergarments, work-related paperwork, or his science-fiction toy collection. There was very little if anything she even kept. Eight trash bags later, and they either went into the dumpster or to Good Will. By late afternoon her clean house was decorated and furnished with things that only spoke of her. By the time she was done no one would have ever known that George or any other man for that matter had ever been in her apartment. Well, other than Spencer and he would always be in her life.
Cleaning out the bathroom medicine cabinet, Jillian came across a used bottle of Vicks rub, outdated prescriptions of Clozapine and Fanapt, and an empty box of Viagra; then she found the new bottle of Midol she had really been searching for. Before doing anything with them, she was interrupted when the phone rang. In answering it, she listened to an automated voice notifying her to claim George’s cremains from the funeral home before five o’clock. The message halted any of her efforts in trying to move forward with a new life. Her long inhale and frustrated exhale accentuated the reality that closure had not yet come. Seeing that it was nearing three-thirty, she decided to take the Brittany spaniel for another walk, before she went to Jonas & Hartman Brothers Memorial; something she dreaded doing in the first place.
Jillian found that she was pleasantly alone again in the open field that introduced the trail-laced wooden area, near her apartment complex. Spencer was eager for the high-stepping exploits of being one with nature again. She knew the walk would have to be a brief one and so did not venture far beyond the boundary of the parking lot’s edge. Suddenly, from behind her a little boy ran passed. He bumped her arm jarring her hold of Spencer’s leash. The dog bounded after the sprinter. Near the tree-line’s break, where a trail’s entrance lay, both the dog and child stopped. The boy gave a taunting laugh at her and then darted into the woods. Interested, only in retrieving her pet, Jillian pursued the canine who complied with her command to stay. Claiming the leash, and glancing beyond the clearing of trees, the dog-owner did not see the boy anywhere. Instead, Jillian caught a glimpse of the same red-haired girl from her dream; this time she was wearing a bright yellow sun-dress with bangles on her wrist. There was a crimson stain growing on her right side as the young lady floated out of view. Spencer began barking after her, as Jillian cautiously went down the footed path. The canopy of green darkened the further she went into the shadowy woods.
Abruptly running into her dog, Jillian asked, “What is it now?” Looking down she saw him sniffing at a book that had been placed beneath a large rock. Taking the odd find, she quickly thumbed through its crinkling pages. Giving a loud sigh, she told Spencer, “Well, I can’t read it in this light, boy. Besides, I need to get back home and turn off that bath water.”
After picking up a brown package, which contained the plastic box filled with George’s ashes, Jillian returned home feeling physically and emotionally drained. Pouring herself a glass of tea, she sat in her recliner and begun a closer inspection of the book she had literally stumbled upon earlier. Its pages were dirty and weather-worn. Each was filled with a scribbling of detailed notes and disjointed diagrams of street addresses. Her thoughts fought against trying to decipher the hurriedly scripted handwriting, and the feeling that it was actually, somehow very familiar. Jillian became nauseous with it the more she read. It appeared to be a diary written in very graphic detail by a rather sick individual.
CONTINUE Reading... 6
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
4
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
IV
____________________________________
Jillian Henson had worked long and hard to get her pharmaceutical license, yet because of her frequent hospital stays she had run out of sick-leave time. But, Jillian knew the real reason why she lost her job was because her Manager had finally gotten his way in getting her fired after she slapped him in front of customers for making a pass at her. A lie, of course, is what Stanley Freeman told everyone because she was caught too many times coming up short on undocumented medications. That was a lie; even the new hires were aware of Jillian’s honesty. She missed her job, but not all the drama. Spencer never gave her a hard time like people did. So they went for their long walks even without George.
The next day Jillian made sure they were alone before they ventured beyond the open field. They were glad the mild winter was over. The high grass needed to be mowed after all the heavy spring rains, yet neither of them cared. In the moment when Jillian was distracted by the massive ground shadow of an overhead passing plane, the dog’s leash was yanked out of her hand. “Spencer,” she yelled out. A few feet away the Brittany spaniel’s hind quarters were all his owner could find sticking out of the brush. Sighing, she retrieved the leash handle. As she stood up again, Jillian froze in place staring through the layering of branches. A beautiful young African woman, with large hoop earrings, was moving strangely just beyond the trees. She recognized her as Chelsea Glasgow, the missing girl from all the news shows.
Jillian knew these woods like the back of her hand, and she also knew that the single trail was much farther in, which made the closeness of Chelsea all the more creepy. The young black woman seemed to almost float along with no stride in her gait. Then, in an eerie fashion, the college-aged student turned about; looking over her shoulder at Jillian with a wide smile. Her mouth had a gaping slash that almost went up to her ear. The woman’s gruesome exposure of bleeding teeth made Jillian step back in alarm. Spencer questioned Jillian’s reaction, but with another glance, the woodland-woman was gone.
“Let’s go home Spence, they don’t want us here boy,” she said as the two began high-stepping back through the lush green field. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones who need help?” The Brittany gave no response.
Just before the two could reenter the apartment’s parking lot, a troop of bicycling boys flew by laughing about something only they knew the answer to. The last cyclist was a much younger boy who was frantically trying to play catch-up and enter the gated community. His pleas fell on deaf ears; it seemed he was forgotten, even a lady walking her dog passed in front of him unnoticed.
CONTINUE Reading... 5
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
IV
Jillian Henson had worked long and hard to get her pharmaceutical license, yet because of her frequent hospital stays she had run out of sick-leave time. But, Jillian knew the real reason why she lost her job was because her Manager had finally gotten his way in getting her fired after she slapped him in front of customers for making a pass at her. A lie, of course, is what Stanley Freeman told everyone because she was caught too many times coming up short on undocumented medications. That was a lie; even the new hires were aware of Jillian’s honesty. She missed her job, but not all the drama. Spencer never gave her a hard time like people did. So they went for their long walks even without George.
The next day Jillian made sure they were alone before they ventured beyond the open field. They were glad the mild winter was over. The high grass needed to be mowed after all the heavy spring rains, yet neither of them cared. In the moment when Jillian was distracted by the massive ground shadow of an overhead passing plane, the dog’s leash was yanked out of her hand. “Spencer,” she yelled out. A few feet away the Brittany spaniel’s hind quarters were all his owner could find sticking out of the brush. Sighing, she retrieved the leash handle. As she stood up again, Jillian froze in place staring through the layering of branches. A beautiful young African woman, with large hoop earrings, was moving strangely just beyond the trees. She recognized her as Chelsea Glasgow, the missing girl from all the news shows.
Jillian knew these woods like the back of her hand, and she also knew that the single trail was much farther in, which made the closeness of Chelsea all the more creepy. The young black woman seemed to almost float along with no stride in her gait. Then, in an eerie fashion, the college-aged student turned about; looking over her shoulder at Jillian with a wide smile. Her mouth had a gaping slash that almost went up to her ear. The woman’s gruesome exposure of bleeding teeth made Jillian step back in alarm. Spencer questioned Jillian’s reaction, but with another glance, the woodland-woman was gone.
“Let’s go home Spence, they don’t want us here boy,” she said as the two began high-stepping back through the lush green field. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones who need help?” The Brittany gave no response.
Just before the two could reenter the apartment’s parking lot, a troop of bicycling boys flew by laughing about something only they knew the answer to. The last cyclist was a much younger boy who was frantically trying to play catch-up and enter the gated community. His pleas fell on deaf ears; it seemed he was forgotten, even a lady walking her dog passed in front of him unnoticed.
CONTINUE Reading... 5
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
3
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
III
__________________________________________
After they took George’s body away, Jillian could not stomach staying at home alone as she had before. She had yet to go through his belongings or decide on what to do with them all. Her thoughts felt vacant and not hers at all. So, she took long walks with her dog instead. Spencer, her Brittney Spaniel was more than eager for his evening walk. They had not done so in a long while. Spencer was Olivia’s pet long before she had even met Gorge. Next to her sister the dog had been Jillian’s best friend.
Heading a stone’s throw from the Lake Cliff Apartment Complex was an undeveloped wooded area. It was where she always found herself heading when things got – too confusing for her. Spencer excitedly tugged at his leash wanting to be released; she called him down, “Hold on.” Pulling Jillian along, she began upping her stride to keep pace with the dog as they continued along the curvatures of the winding sidewalk’s broken path.
Across the open field, another lady was walking her Datsun. Jillian shot a look over to her and asked herself, “Why does she always follow us boy. Let’s hurry up now, Spencer.” He sniffed for a place to do his business near the wooded area’s tree line.
This was the very place where she first met George, and where he had later proposed marriage. It had been their special place, and now that he was gone memories was all she had left. Her thoughts paused. The pause made her wonder what she had been thinking about. Then a blur moved. Something in the wooded area on her right caught her attention. Glancing up, she could have sworn she saw – George.
The man was walking quickly away from her along a parallel pathway in the woods. She suddenly found herself calling his name out. Even more astounding was when he actually turned around. It was George!
With wide eyes, Jillian shouted, “Why did you do it, George? I had to clean up the mess from the walls myself. You had no right to leave me like that! George! George?”
There was no response from beyond the silent trees. Spencer looked up. Jillian glanced at the dog for any validation that she wasn’t being irrational, and then back into the now empty thickets.
The other dog-walker came up from behind and asked, “I’m sorry what did you say?”
Jillian’s flat voice replied, “Thought I saw someone I knew.” Then, realizing who it was that was asking, Jillian said, “Stop following me, Sandra. I knew you and George had something going on, alright, so just leave us alone.” Jillian shook her head, telling the Brittany Spinel as she began heading back home, “She’s everywhere, Spencer. You’d think she was a nurse waking us up in the middle of the night for a stool sample or something crazy.”
CONTINUE Reading... 4
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
III
After they took George’s body away, Jillian could not stomach staying at home alone as she had before. She had yet to go through his belongings or decide on what to do with them all. Her thoughts felt vacant and not hers at all. So, she took long walks with her dog instead. Spencer, her Brittney Spaniel was more than eager for his evening walk. They had not done so in a long while. Spencer was Olivia’s pet long before she had even met Gorge. Next to her sister the dog had been Jillian’s best friend.
Heading a stone’s throw from the Lake Cliff Apartment Complex was an undeveloped wooded area. It was where she always found herself heading when things got – too confusing for her. Spencer excitedly tugged at his leash wanting to be released; she called him down, “Hold on.” Pulling Jillian along, she began upping her stride to keep pace with the dog as they continued along the curvatures of the winding sidewalk’s broken path.
Across the open field, another lady was walking her Datsun. Jillian shot a look over to her and asked herself, “Why does she always follow us boy. Let’s hurry up now, Spencer.” He sniffed for a place to do his business near the wooded area’s tree line.
This was the very place where she first met George, and where he had later proposed marriage. It had been their special place, and now that he was gone memories was all she had left. Her thoughts paused. The pause made her wonder what she had been thinking about. Then a blur moved. Something in the wooded area on her right caught her attention. Glancing up, she could have sworn she saw – George.
The man was walking quickly away from her along a parallel pathway in the woods. She suddenly found herself calling his name out. Even more astounding was when he actually turned around. It was George!
With wide eyes, Jillian shouted, “Why did you do it, George? I had to clean up the mess from the walls myself. You had no right to leave me like that! George! George?”
There was no response from beyond the silent trees. Spencer looked up. Jillian glanced at the dog for any validation that she wasn’t being irrational, and then back into the now empty thickets.
The other dog-walker came up from behind and asked, “I’m sorry what did you say?”
Jillian’s flat voice replied, “Thought I saw someone I knew.” Then, realizing who it was that was asking, Jillian said, “Stop following me, Sandra. I knew you and George had something going on, alright, so just leave us alone.” Jillian shook her head, telling the Brittany Spinel as she began heading back home, “She’s everywhere, Spencer. You’d think she was a nurse waking us up in the middle of the night for a stool sample or something crazy.”
CONTINUE Reading... 4
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
2
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE
II
____________________
The slim red-haired woman with puffy red eyes, paced a circle in her living room listening to the agitated voice on her cell phone's speaker go on and on about how she felt used and unappreciated. Jillian barked back with, "Fine Sandra, so sorry to bother you with every little hangnail that comes up!" She began pecking her fingers against the smart screen, "Man, I miss when you could just slam the phone down on people." Finally, she slid the icon into the red and threw the phone across the room.
Jillian flopped down into the cushions of the well-worn recliner and began sobbing again. Stopping she looked up. Her Brittany Spaniel had slumped down stretching out. Its head rested on the length of white paws, large eyes cutting up at its owner. "I'm sorry Spencer, mom's migraine is coming back and I don't have a ride to the doctor's appointment again." The dog sighed his acknowledgment.
The apartment was dim, except for morning light bathing a green curtain's glow onto the kitchen's cluttering of unwashed dishes piled in both sinks. Jillian shook her head overwhelmed by the housework needing to be done. A darkened stain above the couch on the wall across from where she sat declared such evidence as to why. She tearfully whispered aloud, "Olivia I wish you were here now that George is gone."
The coffee table before her was littered with several empty soft drink cans, a molding half empty glass of milk, a stack of bills and several unpaid-payday loan notices. Still resting in a large ember ashtray was George's folded note. It read simply enough: 'I'm sorry it all got out of hand, I can't stop. I didn't mean for the last one to happen. Boy.' Jillian's frustrated reply to it was, "Sure you didn't George. I can't do this by myself."
Her husband of two years had drained their joint bank account with all of his gambling debts. They had pawned everything of any worth, and taken out payday loans to pay for the payday loans. She was a mess. Everything was lost. Jillian smirked at the dog, "You were here when he went and blew his brains out and left me with all these bills, and water dripping migraine. Spencer, we both know Olivia wouldn't have."
The canine's eyes alone followed her every step as she crossed over to claim his leash, "Well, come on boy. There's no insurance check in the mail again today. He'll just have to lay under more bags of ice in the funeral home till it comes in. I can't even afford a cremation without a job." Clipping the leash to the dog's harness saw an excited tail wag being rewarded with a brief back rub as they both headed out the front door.
CONTINUE Reading... 3
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
II
The slim red-haired woman with puffy red eyes, paced a circle in her living room listening to the agitated voice on her cell phone's speaker go on and on about how she felt used and unappreciated. Jillian barked back with, "Fine Sandra, so sorry to bother you with every little hangnail that comes up!" She began pecking her fingers against the smart screen, "Man, I miss when you could just slam the phone down on people." Finally, she slid the icon into the red and threw the phone across the room.
Jillian flopped down into the cushions of the well-worn recliner and began sobbing again. Stopping she looked up. Her Brittany Spaniel had slumped down stretching out. Its head rested on the length of white paws, large eyes cutting up at its owner. "I'm sorry Spencer, mom's migraine is coming back and I don't have a ride to the doctor's appointment again." The dog sighed his acknowledgment.
The apartment was dim, except for morning light bathing a green curtain's glow onto the kitchen's cluttering of unwashed dishes piled in both sinks. Jillian shook her head overwhelmed by the housework needing to be done. A darkened stain above the couch on the wall across from where she sat declared such evidence as to why. She tearfully whispered aloud, "Olivia I wish you were here now that George is gone."
The coffee table before her was littered with several empty soft drink cans, a molding half empty glass of milk, a stack of bills and several unpaid-payday loan notices. Still resting in a large ember ashtray was George's folded note. It read simply enough: 'I'm sorry it all got out of hand, I can't stop. I didn't mean for the last one to happen. Boy.' Jillian's frustrated reply to it was, "Sure you didn't George. I can't do this by myself."
Her husband of two years had drained their joint bank account with all of his gambling debts. They had pawned everything of any worth, and taken out payday loans to pay for the payday loans. She was a mess. Everything was lost. Jillian smirked at the dog, "You were here when he went and blew his brains out and left me with all these bills, and water dripping migraine. Spencer, we both know Olivia wouldn't have."
The canine's eyes alone followed her every step as she crossed over to claim his leash, "Well, come on boy. There's no insurance check in the mail again today. He'll just have to lay under more bags of ice in the funeral home till it comes in. I can't even afford a cremation without a job." Clipping the leash to the dog's harness saw an excited tail wag being rewarded with a brief back rub as they both headed out the front door.
CONTINUE Reading... 3
_____________________________________________ From the beginning... HERE
THE SPLINTERED PLANCHETTE- (1)
THE COMPLEX OF ODDITIES:
The Splintered Planchette - is only one story in an anthology of stories that comprise a tale of strange happenings of a particular apartment complex where each main character is only a background extra in another piece of the larger puzzle.
A "short story" presented in 14 Blog posts.
Enjoy this "episode" by David DeLane Snow
______________________________________________________________
The two teenage boys were tossing things into a plastic garbage bag. The bedroom was getting its final cleaning as stacks of sealed boxes declared moving day had finally arrived.
One boy held up a model of the original starship Enterprise asking, "What about this?"
The other scoffed, "Of course not."
After carefully wrapping it in newspaper and snuging it into an opened box he held up a tarnished trophy, "This?"
"Yeah, right. I won that like two years ago in a baseball game, mom would so kill me if I chucked that out."
"Oh, cool," the younger exclaimed. He held up two torn halves of a Ouija Board, "Randy check it out!"
The friend, whose room it was looked scared by the discovery. "We were playing with that one family game night when the pointer thingy started moving on its own."
"Shut up, no it didn't."
"Serious man. Creepy. Everyone saw it move too. We all pushed away from the table at the same time and watched it fly all over the board. Aaron, I swear if my mom sees that thing she'll have worse than a melt down hissy-fit. Throw it away dude!"
Inspecting the artwork of the spirit board, Aaron passively said aloud, "Everyone, uh. It moved on its own, what did it spell out?"
"What," Randy's concentration asked from elsewhere?
"You said it started moving on its own - the pointer thingy, what did it spell out?"
Randy looked at his friend then answered slowly, "Woods don't come."
"What was that suppose to mean," his face puzzled, then laughed, "Man someone was playing with you all?"
"No. Everyone, mom, dad, aunt Freda, uncle Shawn, Chris and I all saw it moving. Crazy, it was like watching some weird movie."
"What happened after it spelled out WOODS DON'T COME?"
"Aunt Freda yelled out 'why not,'" Randy laughed nervously.
"Kidding me. You all sat there talking to the silly board game," Aaron asked?
"It spelled out 'He left us here,' " Randy went pale.
"Who?"
"That's what uncle Shawn asked, the the pointer spelled out 'blue car.' "
"You're joking with me. Seriously, everyone is just watching all this doing nothing --?"
Randy cut him off, "Dad jumped up and grabbed the Ouija board, tore it in half and threw it in the kitchen trash can, but --."
"But what?!"
"But, before he did the pointer spelled out 'We're not alone don't come.' "
"What?" Aaron's eyes were huge.
"As dad trashed the board, mom went running around the house turning all the lights back on. My aunt and uncle had been drinking all night and started laughing thinking it was all some preplanned party gag. I was freaking out as the candles kept lighting up and watching everyone's reaction."
Aaron asked, "What about your little brother?"
"Chris ran over to the corner, grabbed the pointer and then ran out the front door with it. Dad yelled for him to give the Planchette to him to throw away. We all followed them to see what was going on and that's when it happened."
"What? What happened?"
"Chris ran out into the street laughing and waving the pointer thing in the air, and some neighbor in a blue Mustang wasn't watching and backed up, hitting Chris. He died on the spot. That -- that was a year ago today."
"Wow. I'm so sorry Randy."
"Thanks man. It's still hard. So, here I am cleaning my room and finally getting ready to move. It's just weird how you found that board in Chris' backpack. We never found the Planchette after that day." Aaron's face went white as his eyes stared at the objects in his hands.
CONTINUE Reading... 2
__________________________________________________________________
The Splintered Planchette - is only one story in an anthology of stories that comprise a tale of strange happenings of a particular apartment complex where each main character is only a background extra in another piece of the larger puzzle.
A "short story" presented in 14 Blog posts.
Enjoy this "episode" by David DeLane Snow
______________________________________________________________
THE SPILINTERED PLANCHETTE
[From the beginning...]
The two teenage boys were tossing things into a plastic garbage bag. The bedroom was getting its final cleaning as stacks of sealed boxes declared moving day had finally arrived.
One boy held up a model of the original starship Enterprise asking, "What about this?"
The other scoffed, "Of course not."
After carefully wrapping it in newspaper and snuging it into an opened box he held up a tarnished trophy, "This?"
"Yeah, right. I won that like two years ago in a baseball game, mom would so kill me if I chucked that out."
"Oh, cool," the younger exclaimed. He held up two torn halves of a Ouija Board, "Randy check it out!"
The friend, whose room it was looked scared by the discovery. "We were playing with that one family game night when the pointer thingy started moving on its own."
"Shut up, no it didn't."
"Serious man. Creepy. Everyone saw it move too. We all pushed away from the table at the same time and watched it fly all over the board. Aaron, I swear if my mom sees that thing she'll have worse than a melt down hissy-fit. Throw it away dude!"
Inspecting the artwork of the spirit board, Aaron passively said aloud, "Everyone, uh. It moved on its own, what did it spell out?"
"What," Randy's concentration asked from elsewhere?
"You said it started moving on its own - the pointer thingy, what did it spell out?"
Randy looked at his friend then answered slowly, "Woods don't come."
"What was that suppose to mean," his face puzzled, then laughed, "Man someone was playing with you all?"
"No. Everyone, mom, dad, aunt Freda, uncle Shawn, Chris and I all saw it moving. Crazy, it was like watching some weird movie."
"What happened after it spelled out WOODS DON'T COME?"
"Aunt Freda yelled out 'why not,'" Randy laughed nervously.
"Kidding me. You all sat there talking to the silly board game," Aaron asked?
"It spelled out 'He left us here,' " Randy went pale.
"Who?"
"That's what uncle Shawn asked, the the pointer spelled out 'blue car.' "
"You're joking with me. Seriously, everyone is just watching all this doing nothing --?"
Randy cut him off, "Dad jumped up and grabbed the Ouija board, tore it in half and threw it in the kitchen trash can, but --."
"But what?!"
"But, before he did the pointer spelled out 'We're not alone don't come.' "
"What?" Aaron's eyes were huge.
"As dad trashed the board, mom went running around the house turning all the lights back on. My aunt and uncle had been drinking all night and started laughing thinking it was all some preplanned party gag. I was freaking out as the candles kept lighting up and watching everyone's reaction."
Aaron asked, "What about your little brother?"
"Chris ran over to the corner, grabbed the pointer and then ran out the front door with it. Dad yelled for him to give the Planchette to him to throw away. We all followed them to see what was going on and that's when it happened."
"What? What happened?"
"Chris ran out into the street laughing and waving the pointer thing in the air, and some neighbor in a blue Mustang wasn't watching and backed up, hitting Chris. He died on the spot. That -- that was a year ago today."
"Wow. I'm so sorry Randy."
"Thanks man. It's still hard. So, here I am cleaning my room and finally getting ready to move. It's just weird how you found that board in Chris' backpack. We never found the Planchette after that day." Aaron's face went white as his eyes stared at the objects in his hands.
CONTINUE Reading... 2
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