Taryn's Camera: Beginnings: Four Haunting Novellas Read online

  Just then, the sound of footsteps thundering overhead and then scampering down the stairs filled the old house. “Hello, friends!” Susan laughed as she entered the parlor, her golden hair flying behind her and glowing in the dark.

  Jimmy trailed after her, walking more slowly.

  “Did you hear or see anything spooky?” Susan sang, laughing a little.

  “Not yet,” Gerilyn replied, moving in closer to Jerry.

  “Yeah, well, we’re going outside. This one here wants to see the barn,” Jimmy said. “And then we’re leaving so meet us at the car. I’m hungry, and this is getting boring.”

  “He’s such a stick-in-the-mud,” Susan laughed gaily.

  Within seconds they'd left, letting the screen door bang shut behind them.

  “You want to go upstairs and look around?” Gerilyn asked timidly. “You know, since we’re here?”

  The idea of being upstairs, alone, with Gerilyn was tempting. However, another bigger thought that crossed his mind was that he in no way wanted to be that far from the front door.

  Still, in spite of his misgivings, Jerry could hear himself answering, “Sure, let’s go!”

  There were two rooms upstairs, both bedrooms. The first one was unremarkable. An old bed with a saggy mattress and creaky springs stood against the wall. It was the only piece of furniture in the room.

  Both Jerry and Gerilyn stood staring at it for a solid minute, both lost in separate thoughts. (Jerry, for what it was worth, couldn’t help but remember that he’d heard the bed whining while they were downstairs. Jealousy of Jimmy briefly consumed him.)

  When they both began to move about the room, he wandered first to the window where he paused and gazed outside, seeing nothing but the faint outline of Jimmy’s car. They were so far out in the country that he couldn’t even see any of the lights from town.

  Of all the nights we could’ve come out here, he thought, we had to go and choose a night with barely a moon.

  Gerilyn busied herself with exploring, looking under the bed, trailing her fingers along the wall, and shining Jerry’s flashlight along the ceiling.

  “Nothing much here,” she remarked at last, content that she’d examined it all. “Let’s go see the other one.”

  That was going to be easier said than done, however. The door to the other bedroom was closed, and while the knob turned easily enough, the door itself wouldn’t budge.

  “I don’t think it’s locked,” Gerilyn grunted as she tugged at the knob and pushed at the heavy door. “I think it’s just stuck.”

  “Well maybe it doesn’t want us in there,” Jerry chuckled nervously.

  “Come on, Jer, help me out here,” she wheezed, throwing her weight at it.

  Against his better judgment, but afraid she’d hurt herself, Jerry planted his feet firmly on the ground, gripped the knob in his hand, and used his own weight to push on the door.

  It moved a little but then snapped shut, as though something was holding it back.

  “It’s like someone’s in there pushing on it from the other side,” he gasped, winded from the effort.

  “Come on, both of us together,” Gerilyn cried. “On the count of three. 1, 2–“

  The door swung open with a force that had both kids tumbling to the floor in a frenzied heap, Gerilyn landing gracelessly on top. Sprawled upon Jerry with her limbs tangled within his own, she giggled helplessly and attempted to rise to her feet with dignity.

  For a split second he was able to see up under her skirts, a lovely view that had him stirring in parts he hoped she couldn’t see. Her long, shapely legs were covered in a thin barrier of silk and he reached his hand out and grazed her ankle as he got up himself. If she noticed, she didn’t mentioned it.

  “That’s going to leave a mark tomorrow,” she grinned, reaching for the flashlight that had rolled away in the fall. “Are you okay?”

  “I think you broke my rib,” he joked, but he wasn’t upset. For one brief glorious moment, her full weight had been on him and it was magnificent.

  Gerilyn, however, already had her attention elsewhere. “Oh my God,” she murmured. “Jerry, just look at this!”

  In the glow of the light, Jerry took a long, hard look at the room before him. Then he closed his eyes in disbelief, opened them, and looked again.

  “Incredible,” he breathed at last. And it truly was.

  The bedroom was a time capsule, a veritable shrine to the room’s former owner. It was clearly a young woman’s room, and it didn’t appear as though a single thing had been disturbed since she was last in it. Everything remained as it had been–the bed, the wardrobe, the dresser (complete with a jewelry box, trinkets, and mementos), the clothes on the hangers, the shoes under the bed, the portraits on the wall…like she’d gotten out of bed one morning, walked out, and never went back.

  “Clara’s room, I reckon,” Gerilyn breathed in awe. “Did you know it was like this?”

  “No!” Jerry exclaimed, fascinated by what he was looking at.

  “Hey, look here,” Gerilyn walked over to the dresser and smiled as she picked something up. “Look at these.”

  In her hands she held a set of skeleton keys, brass objects that dangled from her fingers and danced in the glow of the flashlight.

  The air suddenly went winter cold and stifling. Jerry fought to catch his breath. “Hey,” he gasped, reaching his hand out to her. “I wouldn’t touch tho–“

  But before Jerry could issue a warning, the bedroom door slammed shut and the keys dropped from her fingers. They landed on the floor with a terrible sound of metal scraping against metal. It filled the room and had Jerry covering his ears.

  Although the keys were now on the floor and no longer falling, the noise continued.

  “What is that?” he hollered over the ruckus, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “I don’t know!” Gerilyn shouted back, bringing his jacket collar up to cover her own ears.

  And then–

  “Oh my God!”

  Jerry turned to see what Gerilyn pointed at and promptly wished he hadn’t.

  The figure standing before them, just inches away and close enough to touch, wasn’t human. It might have been at one time, but that had been very long ago.

  Now it was a black mass of swirling light, a larger whole made from individual tendrils with each piece looking like a venomous, angry snake. It was at least as tall as Jerry and, as they watched, it seemed to grow and expand before their eyes. The wiry coils moved throughout the body, shooting out from the thing’s center, and slithering and sliding towards Jerry and Gerilyn before the epicenter sucked them back into the shell with a horrendous slurp. A malevolent “hisss” slid from the being as it appeared to glide towards them, its dark red eyes flashing against the blackness of the room.

  Jerry could see the human in it then, the part that had once been a man. Though its features were no longer prominent, it still contained a sharp nose and wide, thin mouth. The mouth was grimacing now, pleased with itself.

  Gerilyn screamed with all her might and dropped the flashlight. She backed up and fell into Jerry, clawing at him in her fear. He quickly felt behind him for the doorknob. Something, whether it was the thing or something else, touched his arm then. The coldness was something unearthly, something dead. The fetid stench that filled the room was close, and it would later take him a week to scrub it from his skin so that he could no longer smell it.

  Jerry and Gerilyn both began coughing and gagging as they struggled to breathe against the horrible smell. He could hear Gerilyn crying as he struggled to first find the knob and then turn it. The flashlight, lying on the floor, went out. They were in total darkness but could still see the glow of the creature before them. It watched them and seemed to laugh, enjoying their fear and panic.

  He somehow finally managed to tug the door free and, grabbing Gerilyn by the hand, pulled her down the stairs two at a time. Behind them, Jerry could hear the slithering of the tendrils and the terri
ble energy that floated across the ceiling and expanded outwards, encompassing the parlor and dining room.

  When they reached the bottom stair at last, Jerry pushed Gerilyn in front of him and together they ran towards the front door. Someone was screaming, it might have been him.

  Under that sound, however, and under the dreadful slithering and hissing was the unmistakable sound of a woman crying. He thought it was Gerilyn at first, but when they reached outside he saw it wasn’t. She was shocked into silence, visibly shaking but otherwise quiet.

  On the safety of the lawn, they stood beneath Clara’s window, gasping for air. ”Are you okay?” he asked, his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to steady himself as much as it was to reassure her.

  “Y-yes,” she replied, quivering in fear. “Please let’s go, please let’s go!”

  When he turned to lead her to the car, however, something flew past him. He caught the object from the corner of his eye.

  Jerry jumped a little, but reacted quickly, pushing Gerilyn out of the way of danger. Then he watched in horrible fascination as another one fell.

  “What the–“

  Soon, the couple was dodging river rocks as they rapidly fell from the sky, one after the other, and landed around them. A rock nipped his shoulder and tore his nice school shirt and Jerry winced in pain. Gerilyn saw the bubble of blood form through the fabric and did scream then, a screeching sound that had Jimmy and Susan dashing from the barn.

  “What’s the matter?” Jimmy panted. In the moonlight, Jerry could see that several of the buttons on his shirt were undone.

  “That,” Jerry pointed to the ground. His arms were around Gerilyn, still protecting her head. She was quaking in them, sniveling in fear. His shirt was growing damp from her nose and tears, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he wanted to cry himself.

  “My God,” Susan breathed as she knelt down to examine the rocks. They’d landed in a perfect circle around the terrified couple.

  “That could’ve killed you,” Jimmy said, confused. “What happened? Who did it?”

  “I don’t know,” Jerry replied shakily. “But let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Back in the car, Jimmy quickly started the engine and Jerry pulled Gerilyn close. He stroked her tangled hair as she cried onto his shoulder, sniffling and hiccupping.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, his overwhelming sense of protectiveness overriding his own fear. She felt so little in his arms, so helpless. He suddenly wanted her to stay that way, right there next to him. He wanted to protect her, always. “It’s okay, love.”

  By the time Jimmy had the car turned around, Gerilyn’s cries had subsided, but she made no effort to move.

  “Are we leaving?” she asked pitifully. “Are we gone now?”

  “Almost,” he crooned. “Almost gone.”

  Susan gazed at them from the front seat, her mouth open in shock. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Jerry’s bleeding shoulder.

  Nobody looked back as they sped back down the dirt lane. Everyone was afraid.

  As they paused to turn out onto the main road, however, something seemed to call to him.

  Jerry turned and looked back at the house one last time.

  For a moment the clouds parted and the moon shone brightly, lighting up the sky. The stone house rose solidly into the night, proud and intimidating. The shards of glass now reminded him of teeth, ready to consume anyone who got too close.

  And he was fairly confident that, in Clara’s window, stood the figure of a young woman. Her face was distorted in something akin to pain, her hair fluttered wildly about her shoulders, and her mouth was open in a silent scream.

  He watched as she placed a pale hand on the remaining glass and reached out to him.

  And then she was gone.

  Want to follow Taryn Magill’s adventures at the old house?

  Check out Book 1 in Taryn’s Camera,

  Windwood Farm

  http://www.rebeccaphoward.net/windwood-farm.html

  Stella

  A Taryn’s Camera Prequel

  * * *

  Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  Stella thought the night would never end. She hated everything about the night these days–being alone in her house with all its strange noises, the fact that it meant another day had gone by and another one was coming, the impenetrable darkness…

  When she’d bought the house in the country with her husband two years ago the seclusion and quietness had promised to be peaceful. But then he died only two years later. A heart attack at sixty-five.

  Now she was alone.

  Bill had been gone for six months. It was the longest period of time Stella’s ever lived by herself. She’d gone straight from her parents’ house to Bill’s parents’ house where they’d lived for a year and a half at the beginning of their marriage. They’d been married forty-five years. She still wasn’t sure she knew how to live without him, or without anyone. She’d been taking care of someone all her life. She’d never not had someone there to depend on her, whether it was her frail father who’d suffered from severe arthritis and muscle weakness or, much later, her two daughters.

  “Mother, I don’t understand why you want to live in this old thing by yourself,” her daughter, Millicent, had scolded her. She’d walked around the house the day after the funeral, her nose wrinkled in distaste at the creaky floorboards, peeling paint, and faint scent of dampness.

  Sarah, her older daughter, had been more understanding. “Mother loves this house,” she’d chastised Millicent. “And Daddy did, too. He’d want her to stay here and enjoy it.”

  She could’ve sold the house, moved in with Millicent in Nashville until she figured something else out, but Stella was stubborn. The pristine white farmhouse on twenty acres had been Bill’s dream. He’d wanted it so badly. It didn’t feel right to just give it up. Besides, her relationship with her daughter was strained at best. She’d stay there at the house on her own.

  But she didn’t like it.

  There were things in Stella’s house. She’d felt them the day they’d first walked through with the realtor. She’d known as soon as she walked through the front door that something wasn’t right, just by the way her skin prickled. Stella’s scent was strong but it was more than the home’s age and earthy setting that accosted her.

  Stella scented death. Death and something else. Anger perhaps? A strange mix of anger and love.

  It had unnerved her, that first walk through the rooms, but she’d tried to ignore it. Bill knew it was “the one” and she couldn’t ruin it for him. “Can’t you see it Stella,” he asked with excitement in his eyes. “Can’t you just see us out here on the porch, watching Taryn play in the yard? Maybe get some chickens! And that antique store in Murfreesboro? The sideboard? Wouldn’t it look great there in the entryway?”

  She hadn’t been able to deny him, never could. Besides, even at their advanced ages they were in love. She’d decided then and there to work her cleansing magic, along with some heavy duty scrubbing and elbow grease, and they’d wipe away whatever badness remained.

  But it hadn’t left. And now Bill was gone and Stella was left there with whatever was lingering.

  Stella had given up trying to sleep at night. It was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face and once she’d woken up, pawing at the air in the blackened bedroom, forgetting where she was. For one terrifying moment she thought she’d been shut away in the casket with Bill and she’d screamed, sweat rolling down her back and chest.

  “Help me, help me!” she screamed, her words chocking in her throat. “Somebody!”

  Once she’d fully woken up and was alert she’d felt foolish–just an old lady having a nightmare. Yet, at the time, it had felt so real.

  So then she’d tried a night light. That didn’t help. All it did was cast ghastly shadows across her walls, the shapes moving in slow rhythms that reminded her of a deadly seductive dance. She’d stayed awake most of the night just watching them, waitin
g for one to jump off the wall and grab her.

  “You’re going crazy old gal,” she’d muttered to herself, finally giving in and flipping on her lamp.

  Next, she’d turned on the light in her closet. For the house to be as old as it was, her bedroom had a fair-sized closet, more than enough room for the clothes she’d kept after going into a tizzy one afternoon and donating most everything she had. The light in the closet was dim and offered just the right amount of illumination. For three nights she’d slept like a baby in a room that was neither too dark, too light, nor too shadowy. Then, one night, just as she was falling asleep she’d heard what she had come to refer to as “the disturbance.”

  At first she’d thought she was dreaming. After all, she was drifting through that limbo stage where she was neither awake nor asleep. The cry was muffled and short; it barely registered on her mental plane. But then it had come again, louder and more insistent.

  Stella’d shot straight up, startled. She’d looked towards the closet door where the noise had originated and peered into the light inside. She couldn’t see a thing. As she’d skidded out of bed to investigate further, however, a heavy thud came from inside the tiny room and Stella had jumped a foot into the air, letting loose her own shriek.

  “Hot damn!” she’d hollered, her voice echoing in the large room. “Mother of God, what in hell was that?!”

  Standing in the middle of her room, the hard floorboards cold under her feet, Stella had stared inquisitively at the closet door. The Johnson’s Baby Powder she’d always put on before bedtime was sticky and starting to clump from her sweat and she felt a glob roll down her thigh. It had made her sick to her stomach. She’d thought she’d heard a muffled voice and then the padding of feet. Oh, surely to goodness someone wasn’t in her closet, were they?

  The thought of her being alone in the house all night, and then vulnerable in bed, while someone waited patiently in her closet for her to fall asleep terrified her. Frozen in fear, she could do nothing but allow the panic to consume her, her blood turning to icy droplets and chilling her to the bone. She could feel her heart trying to beat its way from her chest, pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. The “whooshing” sound pained her, making her feel as though the room was pulsating around her.