The Haunting of Widow's Walk

The Haunting of Widow’s Walk

Kay Faircloth

Published by Kay Faircloth at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Kay Faircloth

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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THE HAUNTING OF WIDOW’S WALK

by

Kay Faircloth

Dedicated to my son, Brandon and the little gray Cairn Terrier he wanted to name Fang.

Prelude

The smell of death was everywhere. It hovered in the dank darkness and trickled in the water that dribbled down the moss covered walls. But the presence of death was not disturbing to the black clad figure that walked among it. A glance into the dark, glinting eyes would assure anyone of that. One had only to glimpse the coldness there to know that what they were seeing was much more vile than the stench of death. There was no fear, no hesitation in the movement of the draped form. Only menace. A wickedness surrounded it like an aura, as the darkness it usually haunted was left behind for the colorful disarray of a small boy's room. Upon finding the room empty, the veiled face became a mask of rage. Claw-like hands curled into fists of frustration. Then suddenly the hands relaxed, and a glinting smile appeared. The smile was far more ghastly than the expression of fury had been. For the smile somehow made the face of malevolence look as though it had a soul. The dark form moved on to another part of the house, vowing to be patient. Always patient.

***

Something wicked waited in the quiet stillness of St. Stephens. It crouched patiently in the little town, waiting like a monster from a child's nightmare to cast its shadow over the sleepy little southern city. It had done so before...for generations. And in no part of town was the shadow as dark and overpowering as on the street named Widow's Walk.

Chapter One

Alexander and Bailey Thomson climbed from their mother's gold SUV to stand beside her in the shadow of their new home. What they saw was a gray, three storied house complete with a widow's walk, which looked more liked it belonged in a horror movie than on a quiet street in a small, southern town. What they didn't notice as they stood there in the deepening purple shadows of twilight was that the house next door was identical to theirs, except for being white. They also missed the fact that someone stood in the darkness of an upper window of that same house peering down at them. Are you sure this is the right house? Alex asked quietly, as he pushed his glasses further up on his nose. He wondered how even his dad could buy a place this weird.

Mrs. Shelly Thomson glanced down at the card she had pulled from her over stuffed shoulder bag, and then back at the house's number. This is it! she exclaimed as her sky blue eyes swept over the structure. The address is correct and your dad said it had a widow’s walk on top. Do you know that the walks were built on houses so the sea captains’ wives could watch for their husbands to return from sea? But unfortunately so many never returned that they became known as widow’s walks…

The son and daughter watched their mother’s face as she went on to explain that the walk then became a common architectural structure as time went by, and their eyes, which were the exact color of their mother's, met in silent communication. Their only hope of not moving to this little town in the middle of nowhere was lost. Their mom loved the house even without seeing the inside.

It looks spooky, Bailey hopefully whispered the obvious. "So does the one like it next door. They both have widow‘s walks on top.

Alex followed his sister's gaze to the white house, but saw more than she. He noticed a curtain drop into place in an upper story window. They were being watched! The knowledge made him feel uneasy, even though he realized that it was probably just a nosy neighbor looking them over.

Mom, are you sure we're still in Georgia? Bailey asked hopefully. I really don't think Atlanta could be in the same state as this place. Maybe we're in the wrong town…or at least on the wrong street.

Bailey, the street sign says this is Widow's Walk, Alex noted in irritation as he pointed to the sign which stood out starkly in the falling darkness. How many streets do you think there are named Widow's Walk? And you saw the signs as we came into town. You know this is St. Stephens, Georgia.

Hush, you two, and let's take our things inside. Your father may be here, and I don't want him to find you arguing or criticizing the house. He worked very hard to find this place, and I for one love it already. This is just the atmosphere I need to write a great mystery novel! He knew this old house would get my creative juices going!

Bailey and Alexander rolled their eyes at each other as their mother handed them some of the luggage. Their mom was no writer! She was a kindergarten teacher who was tired of tying the shoelaces and wiping the noses of five year -olds. Neither Alex nor Bailey could yet believe that their father had actually given up his medical practice in Atlanta, and moved them all to a smaller town to give her the chance to try writing. His reasoning was that in St. Stephens they could live comfortably on his income alone, while his wife had her chance at becoming a novelist and the children finally had a full time mother. Both children had pointed out to their parents that a part time mother in Atlanta was fine with them, but their words had fallen on deaf ears.

So here we are, Alex mumbled as Bailey shrugged and started toward the house, about to move into a house that Stephen King would be proud to own. Mom gets to write, Dad gets new patients to make well, and Bailey and I get to adjust to this crummy little town.

As he also started toward the house, he couldn't resist one last glance at the house next door. The window was once more occupied. He fancied he could see dark eyes glinting down at him. He silently scolded himself for the shiver which traced its way along his spine. Bailey was the eleven year old, not he. He was almost thirteen and in the seventh grade. Even though only ten months separated their ages he had always been the more mature of the two. Hadn't it been he who had made Bailey promise to pretend to like St. Stephens if their parents were happy here, even if they both really hated it? And he had no doubt they would, judging from his glimpse of the small shady town that didn't even have a movie theatre much less a mall. Sighing, he focused his eyes ahead and refused to glance to the right. He made himself look at the house in front of him, instead of the one beside it. And as he climbed the porch steps in the thickening gloom, that suddenly seemed like a big enough task.

Mrs. Thomson flipped on the light switch just inside the door and a pale imitation of light glinted down from the very high ceiling. Dark, rich paneling gleamed around them, and a wide, curving staircase rose upward to a landing that had a huge stained glass window as a decoration. The softly colored light from that window seemed to tint the air around them with shades of rose, jade, and light canary yellow, making their first impression of the inside of the house as unsettling as that of the exterior.

It's wonderful, Mrs. Thomson breathed in awe. I can't believe your father got this house for the price he paid! Something has got to be wrong with it, but I certainly don't see anything!

Bailey and Alexander were about to volunteer a few things about the house that they didn't like, but just then the shrill creaking of a door opening made them all gasp and spin around. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood silhouetted in the brightness of the doorway, his hand still resting on the heavy door which must have made the horrid sound. Bailey was the first one to see the gold skull encrusted ring on that large hand, even though her eyes, like those of her mother and brother, were too sensitive to the brightness of the other room to see the man's face.

Dad! she cried, recognizing his medical school ring and running to him, eager to feel his arms around her. He had been in St. Stephens opening his office and preparing the house for weeks.

Mrs. Thomson and Alex were right behind her, still not noticing the ring that had identified Michael Thomson to his daughter, but recognizing the deep laughter that echoed in the stillness of the house.

Alex stood back after embracing his father and watched his parents hug. The couple was so opposite in appearance as they stood there embracing. He was tall, she was short. His hair was black and slightly curly, while hers was the color of summer wheat and very straight. But with all their differences on the outside, Alex knew that inside they wanted the same things and shared the same dreams. This house and life in a small town was one of those dreams. That's why Alex had made Bailey promise to act like she liked their new home.

After a tour of the house, both Alex and Bailey felt it might not be so hard to pretend to like their new home after all. Where the town had been disappointing, the rambling old house was not. Both of them had large rooms, hers painted peach and his done in green. There was even a long wished for dark room in his room. And he didn't mind in the least that it was set up in a huge old closet, just as Bailey didn't mind that the fireplace that made her room so special had a mantle with carved gargoyles and griffins instead of angels and flowers. She had always wanted her own fireplace to read by, or dry her hair in front of. In fact, Bailey had wanted a fireplace just as badly as Alex had wanted a darkroom, and almost as badly as her father had wanted a large study like the one downstairs. But of course, none of them had wanted any of the house's features as much as Mrs. Thomson had wanted her freedom from those kindergarteners. Therefore, the house was dearest to her.

So that night as they celebrated over cold hamburgers and warm soft drinks, that Dr. Thomson had brought home from the only fast food restaurant in town, Alex couldn't help but feel happy. Maybe the town was small and the house a little spooky like Bailey had said, but it did have its good points. One was how happy it made his parents. His dad looked much more relaxed than he had in the city where he had been constantly on call at one of the larger hospitals. He seemed to smile more. His dark eyes danced with mischief and the long grooves on each side of his mouth deepened as he laughed at Bailey's chatter. Alex touched his own face, feeling the dimples his mom said he'd inherited from his father. He wished he'd inherited his height instead. It seemed he'd never shoot up like his mother kept promising. Not that he was short, but he just wasn't very tall. What bothered him most was that Bailey had almost caught up with him in height. It irritated him when people asked if they were twins. Twins indeed!

I still can't believe what a wonderful job you did buying this house, Michael, Alex's mother said, interrupting his thoughts of growth. He glanced at his father and saw a slight blush slip under his dark tan as she went on. And how did you ever get everything so perfect? It's all painted and decorated. Even our clothes that the movers brought are all unpacked!

Dr. Thomson ran tan fingers through his black hair. I'm really not responsible, he admitted a little sheepishly. "I was so busy setting up the office and working at the hospital that I pretty much left it up to Mr. Black. He was incredibly kind. In fact, he almost insisted on hiring the workers to redecorate since the house had sat empty so long, and then before I knew it he had a couple of local women in here