The Ghost of Tamyron Meadows

It was long before the endless miles of asphalt had carved through the landscape of Crows Crossing Road that the people of the small town of Cambridge had first learned of the woodland lights at Tamyron Meadows. It had been a long held belief that the lights were created by the ghost of Elias Jonah, A man long since removed from the world of the living many years ago. But it had not been so long that his name would not live on, carried on for generations to come, in the whispered words of legend. It was the fall of 1710 when the then fledgling township of Cambridge first learned of the existence of the strange little man that they would come to know as Elias Jonah. He lived in a small cottage in the woods near the Tamyron Meadows, where he could be seen on most days riding his white horse to the pond near the middle of the meadow to fetch fresh water.

While some only viewed him as a harmless eccentric- there were others though, who held a different opinion of Elias. Those Christian souls, who looked upon him with great disdain, such a man was the Reverend Charles Abbey. The good reverend saw him as a godless man who huddled around candles late at night worshiping the devil, conjuring whatever demons he could to do his twisted bidding. And the Reverend had done all that he could to convince his loyal followers of this. But in all reality- quite the opposite was once true of Elias. For Elias Jonah was once a holy man. And then on one misty fall morning, fate would deal him a crushing blow.

A young Cambridge boy and girl had ventured into Elias’s garden near his cottage to fetch themselves a ripe pumpkin. Naturally Elias- hearing a noise came to investigate. But when they saw Elias Jonah walking towards them through the morning mist, they didn’t see a harmless little man, they saw the devil himself. And once so frightened beyond all sanity and reason, they raced back to Cambridge to alert the reverend and the great Christian township. Word spread like wildfire, the good reverend made with absolute certainty- that everyone knew. the devil himself was in the woods near Tamyron Meadows, and he had to be driven out at any cost. And so with torches lit- off they went to Tamyron to find this unearthly devil and drive him from their midst forever.

Elias as it turns out was riding in the woods when they arrived, there was no trial, there was no sentencing, there was only angry, concerned -well intentioned citizens bearing torches. All being blindly led by the Reverend Charles Abbey. He raised both hands in the air and made a declaration.
“DEVIL! We cast you out of this place.. Go back- Back I say! To the depths of hell from wince you came!”
No one recalls who exactly threw the first torch into the cottage of Elias Jonah. Only that it was immediately consumed by flames. Behind them- hearing the commotion, Elias appeared from the woods, curious as to why his home was being burnt to the ground he cried out in great confusion.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” He yelled


They all turned to face him when the Reverend Charles Abbey raised his hands and shouted at the appearance of Elias Jonah. Slowly the crowd moved towards him.
“Devil! We cast you out of this place!” Abbey yelled.
“Fool, I am no more of a devil than any of you that would dare burn my home to ashes.” Elias answered defiantly.
“Devil leave us now!” Abbey yelled back.
The crowd itself grew more outraged, blindly following The Reverend Charles Abbey’s lead, they pushed forward towards Elias, his horse instinctively moved backwards toward the trees. That was when the Reverend would deal the final blow. He took his torch and threw it on Elias Jonah igniting his night coat immediately. Within seconds others would follow suit and it wasn’t long before Elias Jonah sat atop his horse completely engulfed in flames.

The horse not realizing what had happened, being a frightened beast -ran through the woods with its flaming rider. The small crowd of torch bearing good Samaritans stood idly by and watched as Elias Jonah burnt to death atop his own horse. The Good reverend turned to his flock and raised both hands.
“We have done Gods work here, my friends. Let us return home now and cleanse our selves in the power of prayer.”
Return home they did, and they prayed and prayed, and time had passed, one week, one month and finally one year. And then one night in the fall of 1711, Elias Jonah would return for his revenge. He appeared at the edge of town, in a small clearing, two people saw him and immediately alerted The Reverend Charles Abbey, who was no where to be found.

The ghostly apparition proclaimed to the township that it was indeed the ghost of Elias Jonah, and it was there for only one person, it wanted the Reverend Charles Abbey, and the longer it took to get him the more houses the following night it would return to burn. And true to its word, the following night the ghost of Elias Jonah returned and burnt one random house to the ground. And the next night it burnt two, and it would return until half of the village of Cambridge was ablaze. Until on the final night The good Reverend Charles Abbey appeared at the end of the street awaiting his fate. And when the flaming ghost of Elias Jonah appeared he prayed for mercy but received none. And the flaming horse ran towards him, and the ghost itself swooped down and carried the Reverend Charles Abbey off into the dark cold night never to be seen again.

Though the original Cambridge burnt down- the town was eventually resettled four miles away. It slowly grew, and would blossom into the community that it has become today. But there is still a part of old Cambridge that will not leave this world quietly. Memories still linger for some, two hundred and ninety nine years later, there are still those who hold their breath whenever near old Cambridge. There is something restless there, still roaming the woods near Tamyron Meadows. On most nights you can see it clearly, on others not at all. But when the moon is high in the sky, and that cold murky mist covers the ground, you don’t have to look hard to see the faint flickering light that moves silently through the woods around old Cambridge. There rides Elias Jonah, the oldest resident, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

The Hanging Man of Black Leaf Trail.

They were determined to find a ghost come hell or high water, and when the two black SUV’s stopped in front of the three deserted buildings where Black leaf Trail connected to Crows Crossing Road, they thought that they had stopped at just the right place. They got out of the vehicles just after 2:00 pm on Crows Crossing and decided to have a quick look at the surroundings. The whole scene looked old, broken down and decaying, three of them began to walk across Black Leaf Trail to the first dilapidated building- an old weathered, wooden two story structure that sat back some thirty feet from the edge of the road. There were several broken dirty glass windows in the front and a long ramp that went along the length of it.
“It’s the old Manchester feed store.” A cold voice spoke up from behind them.
All four men turned to face it, he was a frail looking, thin, white haired man standing across Black Leaf Trail by the front of the lead SUV. They gave each other surprised looks as they crossed back over to the vehicles.


Jack Danger approached him first - holding out his hand to greet the old man. He was smiling from ear to ear trying to present himself as courteous as possible. The old man ignored the extended hand and gave him a blank stare.
“Sorry, we didn’t hear you walk up.” He smiled nervously. “I’m Jack Danger, from Destination Paranormal.”
The old man didn’t answer.
“You know? Jack Danger? Host of the TV show Destination Paranormal?” He offered.
He gave him a blank stare.
“We film all over America. You know? Hunting for ghosts?”
“Well there ain’t none in there.” He answered. “The only ghost we got around here lives back in the woods.”
He turned and pointed at the trees.
“But you’d have to be one fool hardy sonofabitch to go back in there.”


The Young man that called himself Jack Danger, turned and motioned to his camera man to come over. Moving both forefingers in a circle indicating that he wanted to film something.
“Hey. suppose you tell us about the ghost on film so we have something to go by, who knows maybe you’ll end up on TV?”
The older man drew in a deep breath and nodded.
“Great. Terry! Bring over that camera. Lets get rolling.” He turned back to the old man. “So tell us about this ghost that we’re going to go see back in these woods.”
“They call him the hanging man, his real name was Abe Carther though, bout 75 years ago he and his wife had a small cabin back over yonder bout’ two miles back, one day Abe Came back from huntin and caught his wife foolin around with another feller and he done killed them both right there on the spot. Shot him, chopped her head off with an ax.”


Jack Danger rolled his eyes, looking at his camera man suspiciously, motioning for him to get in closer.
“So. Why do they call him the hanging man?”
“The man he shot was the constables son, and when he found out what Abe did, he came out to these woods with six other fellers and hunted down Abe and hung him from the tree right by his own front porch. Every since then ol Abe seeks out revenge on whoever gets anywhere close to that cabin. They even found a few folks hung back in there. Some as recently as one year ago, don’t reckon anybody’s been foolish enough to try to test ol Abe since then.”
Jack Danger smiled at his camera man, as they walked back to the SUV’s.
“Well Terry, looks like we have our ghost, if this doesn’t help our sagging ratings nothing will, the Art’s & Science channel will HAVE to renew our contracts after this.”
They took four black bags from out of the lead SUV and divided them up between them. They gathered at the entrance to the woods with the star of the show Jack Danger turning to the old man.



He motioned for him to come over to the edge of the tree line. He put his hand on the old mans shoulder.
“Now you just point us in the right direction and the four of us will go back in there and get the exclusive with ol Abe.”
He winked.
“Straight through there- You’ll find a trail twenty feet back in. that will take you right to the cabin.”
The four of them began the two mile hike back into the woods towards the cabin of Abe Carther at exactly 2:30 PM, they weren’t in the woods for thirty minutes before they stopped to get the camera’s ready.
“Alright. We should be getting close now Terry, now we’ll do an entro right by that tree over there and I want the shot to be in tight while I tell the audience where we are. Marvin, you and Dave keep the equipment close in case we need extra batteries or something.”
He turned to face the two equipment men and motioned for Terry to bring the camera. He stopped in front of the tree.
“And in 1- 2 -3. Hello I’m Jack Danger and this is Destination Paranormal.”

He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when behind them they heard the sounds of a struggle. Curious, Jack and Terry both moved in the direction of the sound to find Marvin standing there staring into the woods, his face white as a sheet.
“Marv? What happened?”
“I dunno. I was standing here and Dave was over there and we were just watching you when something grabbed him and drug him into the trees. I tried to go after him but he’s- Gone.”
The three of them walked slowly back down the path, Terry was filming every step of the way. Twenty five feet in they found Dave’s shoes. Now curious, Marv bent down to inspect them, and when he looked up in the trees there was Dave swinging from the end of a rope. All three men panicked and went running in three different directions, and when he stopped, in the distance Jack could hear Marv screaming through the trees.

He had to find Terry and get back to the SUV to call the police, he stumbled around for several minutes before he came across Terry’s camera laying on the ground. He bent down to pick it up.
“Terry? Terry? Where are you Terry?”
On a dead run he went back down the trail as fast as his legs could carry him, and when he saw the clearing he just knew he made it back to the road. But when Jack Danger stepped through the trees he felt his stomach tightened when he realized that the two black SUV’s were no where to be seen. He stumbled forward as the noose flew over his head and landed clean on his shoulders, he tried to wrestle himself free as he felt the rope tighten around his throat and drug him back into the trees along the trail. But there was no one to hear him plead for his life, there was no camera there to film his greatest moment, there was no audience to watch him being lifted effortlessly to his final resting place in the tree tops.

The Final Take.
~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty year old Sarah Whitfield almost could not believe her eyes when she saw the frail little white haired man walking along the side of Black Leaf Trail in the down pouring rain, she carefully pulled the Buick to the shoulder and look into the rear view mirror to try to see if her eyes had been playing tricks on her. She turned the Buick around and drove slowly along the opposite side of the road until she saw him casually walking along. She rolled down her window.
“Hey Mister, would you like a ride someplace? I’m heading to Dutton.”
The old man smile and walked over to the Buick and leaned down towards Sarah Whitfield.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? I would want to impose.” He said.
Sarah Whitfield smiled.
“Don’t be silly, it’s pouring out there, get in before you get sick.”
He got in the passenger seat, and told her that he was just going down the road to the old Manchester feed store. She looked over at him.
“By the way.” She said “I’m Sarah. Sarah Whitfield.”
“Nice to meet you Sarah. I’m Abe. Abe Carther.”


~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

The Legend Of Jack Hook

October 15th, 2010.
You could only drive on the dirt road, and then- only so far back in along the tree line before the ruts got so bad that it was no longer passable. Then, if you wanted to get back to the old deserted remains of Seger’s mill- you had to walk into the back woods some two miles on foot until you reached the Saddlehorn river. There wasn’t much left of the mill itself, most of the burnt out remains crumbled into ruin decades ago. There was part of a burnt out wall that still stood and the concrete floor was all that remained. There wasn’t much left at all, not much except for one enduring legend that- like the mill itself, would refuse to die. Its what would bring partying teenagers from every small town within 50 miles here every Halloween season, they would hike back into the woods from the dirt trail at Crows Crossing Road, they would bring beer, pot, and whatever else they could carry to take to one of the most isolated spots along the Saddlehorn river, and they would do it all simply to scare the wits out of each other. And year after year, each and every time someone would enter the woods in search of Seger’s Mill, no one ever realized that they were not alone. Until it was too late.

This time, there would be four, they thought that it would be enough. The sun was out when they entered the trail at the edge of the woods, there was a slight chill in the early afternoon air, and after all there were four of them, what could go wrong? But of course the last ones to try it- thought six would be a safe number and of course it wasn't. The last time someone was brave enough to test the legends at Seger’s Mill was almost three years ago, three kids ended up dead, one ended up in a mental hospital and two of them moved away. And through it all - no one ever actually figured out what happened. In spite of the warnings to steer clear of the Mill, it was inevitable that sooner or later someone would venture back into the area in search of cheap Halloween thrills. This particular group was being led along by 17 year old Mitch Weldon, he knew exactly where the ruins of the Mill were- having grew up in the area. And of course all present more than once had heard of the legends of Jack The Hook, it was almost 85 years ago when Jack Corrigan had his infamous accident where he lost his hand while working at Seger‘s Mill.

In 1925 it was never clear to the folks of the then still blossoming young township of Alderville, exactly how Jack Corrigan was seen to have a metal hook in place of his lost hand. There were never any records of any doctor performing such an operation, nor any that would lay claim to the deed. All that was known for certain was that Corrigan could be seen at odd hours of the night wandering the streets of Alderville with his new metal appendage wrapped in rags, muttering insane ramblings to himself. After several incidents- concerned citizens ran him out of town and he was never seen nor heard from in Alderville again. Some say he went back to the Mill where the accident took place and in a blind fit of rage one night he burnt it to the ground taking his own life and forever cursing the remains of it. In the 85 year period following, several incidents had occurred where hikers reported seeing a wild man with a metal hook for a hand roaming the woods and attacking anyone who ventured too close to Seeger’s Mill. All and all, there had been over 35 fatalities contributed to the Mill, only five of which the bodies of the victims had been discovered - horribly mutilated. The rest were never to be seen again.



They stood near the clearing at Seger’s Mill just before 4:30 PM, There was Mitch Weldon leading the way, he stopped just short of the edge of the clearing and looked back at Benny Frye, Cora Samuels and Cynthia Todd. Mitch was exactly one year older than the rest of them so they appointed him the leader, so when he turned to the rest of them to ask what they thought about going on - they found it a bit unsettling. Benny Frye stepped forward.
“You said to trust you Mitch- so that’s what we’re doing.” He looked back at the two girls.
They both nodded slowly.
“Yeah Mitch.. Lead the way.”
The small group of teenagers slowly moved towards the ruins of Seger’s Mill, and almost as if on cue the clouds began to roll in making the sky seem dark and ominous. They went to the center of the concrete floor of the Mill and sat down in a small circle. Each of them looking up in different directions as the sky continued to grow darker and darker. They hadn’t even been there for twenty five minutes when a noise caused Mitch Weldon to spin around sharply and look up at the top of the only remaining part of the structure. There at the top of the burnt wall sat three crows silently staring down at them.
“Holy shit!” Mitch exclaimed. “Those stupid birds scared the hell out of me.”
Cora Samuels slowly rose to her feet and walked towards the three birds.

They watched her almost transfixed as she moved toward the crows, slowly raising her hand to them, smiling, coaxing them closer. She turned to look back at her three companions before walking back to the circle and sitting back down.
“I think they’re beautiful. I’ve heard people say that the crows here are like guardians or something, you know- like a bridge between the spirit world and our world. They’re special. that’s why they won‘t fly away.”
Benny Frye cast her a strange look as he fumbled in his back pack before producing a clear plastic baggie half full of rolled marijuana cigarettes .
“I think we should smoke a joint, you know- to kind of take the edge off. We’re all a little jumpy right now.” He said.
His three companions happily agreed as he lit one and began to pass it around. He took the first toke and handed the joint to Mitch just as something at the edge of the trees caught his eye. his eyes quickly darted in several different directions at once, before quickly disregarding it as his over active imagination. Then Mitch saw it, and then Cora- and as the first raindrops began to fall, all four began to realize at the same time that perhaps this wasn’t a good place to be after all. Mitch slowly rose to his feet, he nervously looked back over his shoulder at Benny and the others.
“Okay - so maybe that was an animal of some kind.” He said.

Benny rose to his feet and moved to the edge of the concrete floor and peered into the dark woods, all at once the three crow’s began to raise a ruckus, they began cawing and flying around the Mill. He stopped to look up as they all returned to their perch at the top of the burnt wall. Now all three were staring right at him. He turned to face his three friends, his level of discomfort slowly began to rise. Cora Samuels rose to her feet and stood beside him.
“Oh geez.. They didn’t come here to protect us.” She said. “They came here to warn us.”
Now Mitch Weldon stood.
“Alright we had our Halloween chill for today, lets get the hell back to my truck before we scare ourselves straight into having an accident.”
Ignoring the crows, they all stood up and gathered themselves before heading back to the trail, and unknown to them- with the three birds in tow. They walked for another twenty minutes back into the woods before they heard the first echoes of running feet quickly coming up behind them. With Mitch in the lead, followed by the two girls and then Benny at the rear, they all stopped to look back just in time to see a shadow grab Benny by the foot dragging him back into the woods. He let out a shrill scream as Mitch and the two girls grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from the shadowy figure, and Mitch Weldon felt his heart stop when he saw the metal hook dig into Benny’s flesh tearing his back open.



They frantically tried to free their friend as the first crow came through the trees followed by the other two, they swooped down into the shadows just before Mitch felt whatever it was - relinquish its grip on Benny. He pulled his friend back onto the trail and without another thought hoisted him up over his shoulder.
“Lets get the hell back to my truck! MOVE IT!” He yelled.
On a dead run they didn’t stop until they were out of the woods and back at the edge of the dirt road. Mitch Weldon put Benny in the back with the two girls, he got in the cab as the shadow emerged from the edge of the trees.
“Mitch! It followed us! Hurry get us out of here!” Cora yelled.
Thirty feet from Crows Crossing Road, Cynthia Todd got a signal on her cell phone and called 911, and told the operator that they were on their way back to Alderville with a severely wounded Teenager and that they should send an ambulance to meet them halfway. And once safely back on Crows Crossing Mitch Weldon hit the gas and never looked back. Seven miles outside of Alderville he flashed his lights at the Ambulance and pulled over, it turned around and came back towards the truck and stopped in front of it - seconds later followed by two county sheriff‘s vehicles.

The frightened teens recalled the entire tale to the sheriffs deputies as the paramedics tended to Benny Frye. In the end, Benny Frye would live to tell his cautionary tale to other teens hoping to tempt the angry spirit at Seger’s Mill. All four teens would survive and eventually recover from their harrowing ordeal. But on that late fall evening, as they watched the paramedics load Benny Frye into the ambulance, and as the officers told Mitch to meet them back at the sheriff’s office to make a formal statement. In the growing night, no one noticed the three crows silently watching from the edge of the tree’s. And as they closed the ambulance doors, and it pulled away followed by the sheriff’s cars, Mitch Weldon and the two girls got into the cab of his truck and calmed their nerves before following behind them. And through it all no one seemed to notice the long metallic slash mark across the face of the trucks tailgate as it pulled away. Above the hum of engines no one heard the metal hook fall onto the asphalt behind them and bounce to the side of the road. No one knew exactly how lucky the four teenagers were to survive or how close they actually came to death doorstep themselves. And so like any other day or night, the rain continues to fall, and the crows continue to stand watch because they know, there will be others to come. And other restless spirits to be tested. Here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

Rain wash over me.

Clarence Keeler and his son Andrew had spent many days over several summers enjoying the succulent bounty of fresh water trout that the Saddlehorn river had to offer. They had at least three different fishing spots that they preferred but on this particular day they chose the one nearest the bridge at Sonnets Ferry just a quarter of a mile off of Crows Crossing. It was the usual gray overcast morning there in the woods but it hadn’t been raining yet, although the skies were threatening. They pulled to the side of the dirt road, got out and went to the back of the truck to get their tackle box, fishing poles and bait, he instructed the boy to carry the two lawn chairs down to the bank of the river, and the boy happily complied. He got within 50 feet from the water when he came up behind his son to find him standing there white faced staring across the bank.



Clarence studied the boys face somewhat puzzled at first. Until he looked across to the other side of the river and saw the tall broad shouldered Indian man walking along the opposite bank away from the bridge, The boy and his father watched for a full five minutes before he stopped, turned and looked right at them before disappearing before their very eyes. Stunned Clarence Keeler slowly opened one of the lawn chairs and sat down, he motioned for the boy to do the same.
“Who was that pop?” The boy asked.
Clarence Keeler sat in stunned silence..
“The legend is true, that had to be William Grayfeather. I thought that that story everyone tells was just a legend.”
He sits the boy down and tells him the tale of William Grayfeather.



Dry climate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 24th, 1874.
It had been the second straight year that the crops had failed in the small settlement of Sonnets Ferry, they hadn’t seen nary a drop of rain in nearly twenty four long months and the river was all but drying up. Right along with the hopes and dreams of better days for the people of the Sonnets Ferry settlement, while some had packed up whatever they had left and moved on seeking greener pasture there were still a handful of people who still clung to the hope that somehow something would come to save them from the drought. The funny thing about desperation is it can drive people to do desperate things. Then on the morning of September 24th, while out hunting for small game, young Thomas Marlow came upon a four wheeled- wood enclosed wagon, with big fancy words painted on the side.


He circled around the sides of it looking to see if there was anyone around when a short fat fellow wearing a dirty suit and a black derby grabbed him by the arm.
“Say! What are you doing here young feller! Don’t you know better than to go looking around somebody’s wagon?” He yelled.
“Mister, I wasn’t going to steal nothing I was just wondering who it belonged to. I was just out hunting for rabbit.” The boy explained.
“Rabbit Aye?” He eyed him suspiciously. “Where you from boy?” He demanded.
“Sonnet’s Ferry Sir, its about a mile up river. If you want I can show you.”

He allowed the boy to sit on the seat of the wagon as it plodded along the rut riddled dirt trail leading to Sonnet’s Ferry. He introduced himself to the boy as Barnabus Chelly, and he was a traveling salesman, that sold potions and elixirs that would cure everything from the common cold to scarlet fever depending of course on the ailment. In the back of the wagon he had an old Indian fellow that helped make the potions from genuine Indian ingredients, discovered by an old medicine man from a long lost Indian tribe that of course wasn’t around anymore. The boy listened to his tall tales wide eyed and believing every word.
“Wow Mr. Chelly! A real Indian?” The boy asked
“You bet he is, he was the son of a real shaman. Knows all kinds of ancient Indian tricks.” Barnabus boasted.


The longer they traveled the taller the tales got and the more the boy believed every word. Until finally the tiny settlement of Sonnets ferry slowly bloomed into view. There wasn’t much to it basically six medium sized buildings in a small group and a few surrounding farms in the outlying area, one general store that was just about out of everything and a trading post nearer to where the actual ferry was. Thomas introduced Barnabus Chelly to his mother and father who had both come to the front door of the small general store when they heard the horse’s whinnying as the wagon stopped in front. The boy immediately introduced Barnabus Chelly to his parents before he produced two rabbits that he’d shot before running to Chelly. The Marlow’s invited him inside. And soon had invited Chelly out to their farm for dinner. To which he happily accepted.


The Marlow farm was even smaller that the buildings inside of Sonnets Ferry. They didn’t have much but were willing to share. And over dinner, Everett Marlow had told Barnabus Chelly about the drought that had been plaguing the area for the past twenty four months. But it wasn’t until the boy interrupted the conversation by bringing the magical Indian in the back of the wagon into the conversation. And suddenly a devious idea began to slowly form in the back of Barnabus Chelly’s mind.
“I’ll bet that magic Indian in the back of Mr. Chelly’s wagon could make it rain pop.” The boy exclaimed.
The boys parents looked at Barnabus Chelly curiously.
“What Indian?” Everett Marlow asked.
Chelly looked down at his plate of food trying desperately to appear innocent.
“Well Mr. Marlow.. that’s true enough I reckon.. I do have an Injun in the back of my wagon, but I couldn’t rightly let him out to do any of that rain dance stuff them redskins do.” Chelly replied slyly.


Marlow rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking back and forth between Chelly and his wife. He looked at the boy and then out at the wagon. He tried to look as though he didn’t want to believe what Chelly was selling but the seed had already been planted. He looked back over his shoulder at his wife.
“Alright Chelly lets have a look at this Indian, I don’t suppose having a look will hurt anything.” He said.
They walked out to the back of the wagon when Chelly turned to face them.

He walked back and forth almost nervously carefully searching through his mind for just the right words. He stopped and turned to face them.
“Now folks, I’ve heard tell that these injuns have made it rain in some cases.. But dadgumit they’re just so damned unpredictable, they’re savages at heart you know? Are you sure you want to see this?”
They all nodded in agreement. And slowly Barnabus Chelly unlocked the back of the wagon door and swung it open. It was dark and dusty and hard to see inside. Barnabus Chelly leaned in the door.


“William! William Grayfeather! Now you come on out here nice and slow to meet these folks, and you best be nice about it too.” He turned to face Everett Marlow. “I had to at least try to give him a Christian name you understand being a savage and all, figgered he needed saving.”
He was tall, taller than any of them, and broad shouldered with long black hair that fell down his back, and when he stepped out from the back of the wagon they all drew a deep breath and stepped back. All except Marilyn Marlowe who thought at first sight that he had kind eyes, kind but filled with a terrible sadness.
Chelly felt his chest swell, along with his head.
“Mr. and Mrs. Marlow.. Young Thomas.” He said nodding towards the boy. “This here is William Grayfeather son of an honest to goodness genuine Indian shaman. William- now these nice folks need our help, and by god we are gonna help them!” he proclaimed.

Unexpected Turn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He ushered Mr. Marlow to the side and quickly tried several different sales pitches on him, before finally selling the desperate farmer on the idea that he would leave the Indian with them for a small fee, and he would take his wagon to the edge of the woods and wait, and if the Indian couldn’t make it rain then he would come back and happily return the fee and he and the Indian would be on their way no harm- no foul. Mr. Marlow even though being a man of faith had no money to pay the fee so in exchange he gave Chelly a cloth pouch of small golden nuggets that he’d taken from the river that summer.


It wasn’t much but the word gold was all that Chelly needed to hear to get him to agree. And he left William Grayfeather with the Marlow’s. He prodded the horses and the wagon slowly pulled away and Barnabus Chelly had no intentions on making good his promise. Everett Marlow cautiously walked around William Grayfeather.
“Well, he doesn’t look hostile.” He looked him up and down. “Do you even understand English Mr. Grayfeather?”
William Grayfeather nodding.
“Yes sir. Mr. Marlow what did you give Chelly? I’ve been trying to part ways with him since two months ago but he locked me up in that damned wagon. What did he tell you? What is it that you need help with?”
Hearing Williams near perfect English, Everett Marlow could feel his heart sinking. He looked down the trail to where Chelly and his wagon had disappeared and realized that he’d been taken.



He slowly sat down on the front porch of the farmhouse, removing his hat, a feeling of foolishness and dread came over him. William Grayfeather sat down next to him.
“He said you could make it rain, it has been dry here for so long I suppose I was ready to believe anything was possible, My hope made me stupid I suppose.” Marlow hung his head.
“ Mr. Marlow.. Having hope isn’t stupid, sometimes hope is all that we have to get us through the bad things in life, hope keeps us going.” He looked up at the sky. “Mr. Marlow, I can’t make it rain, only the great god can do that, but you keep praying for that miracle and don’t ever give up hope, its going to happen.” He rose to his feet and looked back up at the sky. “Do you feel that Mr. Marlow?”



Everett Marlow now rose to his feet and stood beside William Grayfeather.
“Do I feel what?” He asked.
“Its going to rain tonight, I don’t need no magic to know that, I can just feel it in the air. Do you have any animals outside?” He asked.
“Some.. Not many.. but some.. Why?”
He turned to face Everett Marlow.
“You’d better get them someplace inside, looks like Barnabus Chelly’s plan didn’t go so well, your Miracle’s coming Mr. Marlow.” He pointed to the tree’s “See that there? The wind is kicking up from the East, A storm is blowing in, feels like a bad one too.


And storm it did, long through the night, the rain poured down on them from the thick storm clouds, so much in fact that the Saddlehorn had once again become a full fledged raging torrent. And when Everett Marlow stepped out from the farm house the next morning it was still pouring, he stepped down in the wet grass and when he rounded the corner of the porch there stood Barnabus Chelly with a gun drawn pointed at the head of his son Thomas.
“Please Mr. Chelly.. I’ll do whatever you want just let my son go.” Everett said.
“Where’s the redskin Marlow? I’m taking him back with me.” Chelly yelled.
William Grayfeather stepped into view.


“You may as well let that boy go Chelly.. I’m not helping you anymore.”
“My God William!” Chelly’s lips spread into an evil smile. “This is your best work yet, You’ve been holding out on me boy! My God! You made it rain! You really made it rain. Think of the money we could make with this William.”
William Grayfeather’s eyes narrowed as he slowly walked towards Chelly.
“It’s over Chelly, you prey on peoples fears, you devour their dreams, you give them false hope, wave it in front of their eyes and just when they are ready to believe, when they are ready for their miracle you sneak away like a thief in the night, you are a bug Barnabus, and your thievery ends here.. Now. Let the boy go ”

Chelly suddenly not so confident began to pull the boy by the shirt backwards towards the river all the while William Grayfeather followed. And when he was at the waters edge and he could go no farther he pointed the gun at the boys head again.
“Not another step William, I’ll shoot the boy.”
But now William was too close and he reached out with the quickness of a snake and snatched the boy away from Chelly’s grasp and tackled him knocking him backwards into the water. Everett and Marilyn Marlowe both rushed to their sons side while William Grayfeather Held Chelly’s head under the water while relentlessly beating on him. Chelly’s hand with the gun broke the surface of the water and discharged two shots directly into Williams chest, but the large Indian continued to hold him under the water until he finally drowned.



William fell against the bank as Everett and Marilyn Marlow both pulled him from the river. He looked up at the sad faces of the Marlow’s and motioned for Everett to come closer.
“Don’t ever give… Up.. Hope.. Mr. Marlow.. Sometimes.. Hope... Is the only thing.. You have.”
He took two short breaths and then one deep one and then his eyes looked away. That afternoon the rain would die down long enough for Everett and Thomas Marlow to dig a grave.. And along the banks of the Saddlehorn river in the late Autumn of 1874 William Grayfeather was laid to rest. And on his grave was a marker, across its face, written by the hand of Everett Marlow was but a single word… “Miracle”

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

Sundown Never Sleeps..

It was a feeling that he could not outwardly place, he supposed that it was one of those ‘One of these things is not like the others' kind of things- but he couldn’t put his finger to it. It was something that had been tugging at the back of his mind since they‘d gone through Pleasantville. He’d seen the kid sitting in the back seat on the old red Pontiac Tempest, when they’d pulled up to the stop light on the main drag. The kid was really neat looking, wearing a little pink dress laying in the back in a blanket with no car seat, Bear remembered giving the parents a cold stern look, compared to the kid, they were dirty looking, nasty matted hair, dirty hands and the mommy looked even worse, they looked like a couple of junkies he‘d thought. Something didn’t fit- the kid was way to clean to be theirs, only it didn’t hit him until now. Now he just had a bad feeling, and when he‘d walked past the gas pump by the police cruiser he heard it coming over the radio, somebody had snatched a kid from the front seat of a car while the mother was inside the store paying for her gas. No description of the suspects but the little girl was wearing a little pink dress with flowers on it and she had her little blue blanket with her. He turned immediately towards the store. His two friends Snake and Christian were walking towards him.
“Snake? Is that cop still in the store?” He asked.
The other biker shrugged.
“Yeah. I guess so. why?”

Bear walked past him back into the store, he saw the cop at the counter paying for a sandwich. He patiently waited until he headed for the door, the officer turned to face the much larger man, the sight of Bear made him uneasy. He was so big, so burly, a barrel-chested brutish looking man, and yet there was something in the eyes, something that puzzled him.
“Officer?” Bear said. “I was standing by your cruiser and I overheard someone on your radio talking about a kidnapping?”
They walked together out the door toward the three Harlys and the police cruiser.
“Yeah, it happened this morning over in Burnam county, the mother was in the store for just a minute or two to pay for gas and somebody snatched the kid out of the front seat. It really sucks too, poor lady is hysterical, shame, can’t take your eyes off your children for a second these days. They have everybody in three counties looking for that kid.” The officer said.
Bear looked at Snake and Christian and then back at the officer.
“Yeah. Well it didn’t hit me until I heard your radio but I think I saw that kid when we were passing through Pleasantville this morning. She was laying in the back without a car seat, laying there in a blue blanket. I knew that kid looked too clean to belong to those two.” Bear told him.

He gave him a full description of the dirty looking couple and even remembered most of the license number, make and year of the vehicle, they were driving a beat up red 1962 Pontiac Tempest with Ohio, plates. And last that Bear could remember was they turned and were heading east towards Crows Crossing Road. The officer thanked Bear for the information and immediately radioed back to the Sutter county Sheriffs office. Bear told him that they were going to stay in the area until the child was recovered, probably in an abandoned settlement in the woods that Christian knew about where they could stash their bikes and themselves out of the weather in case it rained, all Bear knew was that it was somewhere along Crows Crossing Road. The officer thanked them for their assistance. He thanked him in kind and the three bikers left the convenience store and headed east on Crows Crossing. Five miles later they turned onto a narrow stretch of road that lead farther back into the woods until they reached Quick’s bridge at the Saddlehorn River. Christian turned his bike down the dirt road that ran beside the river and lead the way to the abandoned settlement. They stashed their bikes in a shed next to the building they would be sleeping in. Just before dark Bear decided to walk back in the trees to gather some fire wood. He had been stepping on and breaking small branches when he’d first noticed the large black crow sitting on a limb in a tree above staring down at him.

Bear’s round face drew into a smile as he carefully stood and moved closer to the tree never taking his eyes off of the beautiful bird. His lips pursed and he began to make little kissing sounds at the bird slowly raising his hand to see if the crow would move. But instead of moving it cocked its head almost curiously still looking down at him.
“Boy aren’t you a handsome feller. Say where do you live big boy?” Bear smiled.
Without warning the crow let out a blood curdling shriek and flew out into the clearing landing on another tree some forty feet away. Taking it as a sign that the bird didn’t wish to be bothered- he returned his attention back to the firewood. Moments later he looked back up and there was the bird again sitting and staring at him only closer than before. Now puzzled Bear called out to Christian and Snake who both emerged from the trees and into the clearing.
“S’matter Bear?” Christian asked.
“Get a load of this bird man. He’s acting kinda funny.” He answered.
Christian laughed.
“Hey man. That’s a crow.” He laughed pointing at the bird. “You’re less than a mile and a half from Crows Crossing Road, all of the crows here act funny.”
Bear wasn’t smiling anymore. He stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the Crow.




He explained to them how it flew away and then came back and did it twice more before they’d shown up, always flying off in the same direction, landing on the same tree. Making a terrible commotion each time. Bear instructed them to the tree where it always landed. The same spot every time always flying to that spot then coming back. They moved next to the second tree and the crow almost seemed eager to follow them.
“Call me crazy,” Bear said “But I honestly think this little guy is trying to tell us something.”
“Well call me crazy man,” Snake said, “But its gonna be completely dark in a couple of hours, and if we follow this bird too far into the woods we could get lost.”
A strange noise echoing through the trees caught their attention and the three men looked at each other and carefully made their way deeper into the woods being ever so careful to be as quiet as possible. The trail led them up a hill and weaved its way back towards the river near another small dirt road that came straight through the woods. And Bear could almost hear his heart pounding through his chest when he saw the red Pontiac Tempest parked some thirty five feet away on a small cliff overlooking the Saddlehorn river. He turned back to Snake and Christian.
“Get back to the settlement and walk the bikes back to the bridge where we came in before you start them, get the cops up here but fast! them are the two junkies that snatched that kid, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on them. Go on now, and be quiet and quick about it!” He instructed them.
They disappeared quietly back into the trees as bear moved around to get a closer look at the car. He didn’t see the young man with the club in his hand sneaking up behind him.

He swung the club at Bear striking him in the back and went running towards the river yelling at the top of his lungs, Bear struggled to his feet and followed, he was standing on the ledge of a twenty foot drop yelling down at the water to the woman who held the baby, he turned in time to see bear step up in front of him. He scowled at him.
“I. I’ll kill you man!” He stuttered at Bear.
He raised the club into the air as Bear doubled both fists.
You tell that scrawny bitch of yours to put down that baby or I’m gonna throw you both a beating!” Bear yelled.
“No way man. Run Marilyn!”
Bear took one step forward when a black flash flew right by his head and straight into the face of the club wielding junkie. Startled he staggered backwards dropping the club and fell backwards down the small cliff face. Bear looked down at him as his thin body lay still with his head against a log. He had broken his neck on impact. Bear turned and made his way down to the water some thirty yards ahead he could see the woman with the baby trying to climb up the side of the bank to get away from the outraged biker.
“C’mon lady. Don’t hurt the kid.. Just give her to me and I’ll let you get away clean. I won’t try to stop you.”
Her feet were starting to come out from under her and he could see that she was losing her grip on the child.

Bear looked up at the large black Crow almost helplessly. The crow stared back at him.
“You got any magic left big boy? I’m running out of ideas here.” He said.
He could see the baby who was now lying on the ground while the woman tried to feverishly look for an escape. It seemed to Bear almost. Magical, as he watched the large Crow get between her and the baby and began shrieking at the top of its lungs at her. She was slowly backing away half confused half frightened. Bear’s smile returned.
“Yeah big boy! that’s it. Give it to her good.” He chuckled.
He ran over to the baby as she climbed out onto the side of a fallen tree that was precariously laying in the water, the crow all of the while- flying at her from every direction seemingly all at once confusing her even more as she inched her way out on the limb farther and farther out over the water. Until finally her feet slipped and she fell in, Bear watched as the river washed her away. He held the little girl close as he made his way back to the dirt road that ran beside the raging Saddlehorn, off in the not too far distance he could hear the faint growl of motor cycle engines followed closed by the wail of police sirens. He walked with the baby towards the flashing lights as the crow flew over head. He stopped and looked up at it as now the police cars were only some fifty yards away.
“Thanks for the help big boy. I owe you one.”
When it all sorted out, they returned the baby to her mother, Bear got his fire wood and built his fire, and although he Snake and Christian would have been welcomed with open arms in any town in the area, they decided to camp out next to the Saddlehorn, here tonight they would sleep peacefully, amongst the trees and their new found friends.. Here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

Wrong Turn Right.

He would have thought that he’d seen it all, but the past two days had proved him wrong, the past three hours in fact had shaken him to the bone. There he sat in the small booth at Clarkson’s diner where Route 6 passed over Crows Crossing Road. He looked across the table at Tommy Flynn who was staring into his coffee cup blank faced. They had been at it ever since they were kids growing up in Brooklyn New York, Vincent Bartoli and Tommy Flynn were always the bullies who imposed their wills on others, they were always they biggest, they were always the meanest, always the ones to be feared by any who would dare even think to oppose them. But this, this? Here and now? What they were feeling was different than anything they had ever felt in their lifetimes.

Fear was an unknown commodity to these two, but here it was slapping them in the face like they themselves had done to so many others, so many times. Four days ago, together, they set out for California from Brooklyn, drinking and partying their way across the entire United States. And then yesterday, just yesterday on a remote stretch of road they had picked up a beautiful young hitch hiker that was trying to get to Cantorville. And in a drunken stupor, they forced her into the car, and then forced her to drink, and then they both took her to the side of the road and forced her to have sex. Only Vinnie being as drunk as he was - didn’t realize that the whole time that his hands were around her throat and before long the girl was dead.

There they both were standing with their flies open in the middle of the road stunned and now sober trying to figure a way out of this mess that they had gotten themselves into. It wasn’t long before they decided to stuff her into the trunk of the Chevy and look for a place along the remote highway to bury her. Vinnie had a shovel on the floorboard of the back seat so all they needed to do was find just the right spot to dig a hole and dispose of the body. They made a right hand turn onto crows crossing road just after midnight not knowing where they were or even where they were going. Tommy Flynn drove for over an hour before they decided to stop and get rid of the girl, they had passed two highway patrol cars on the way and it was getting too risky to have a dead body in the trunk in case they were pulled over.

Vinnie Put on his best tough guy face, pointing out that they had just passed a dirt road and Tommy should turn around and go back. They pulled onto the dirt road and drove back into the tree line for over a half of a mile before Tommy Flynn stopped the car. And what happened next neither could ever hope to explain nor understand. Vinnie grabbed the shovel and tried to act calm as he went to the rear of the vehicle to open the trunk. He put the key in and when he raised the lid something flew out of the trunk straight for his head and knocked him over backwards, Tommy came running, Vinnie stood up, dazed and when they both looked in the trunk it was completely empty. In the distance all they could hear was what could only be described as a cawing sound.


They looked across the table at each other in stunned disbelief. Vincent Bartoli was getting whiter by the second. Both he and Tommy Flynn for the past few minutes were each carefully in their minds- retracing their steps up until they entered the diner. Tommy leaned forward whispering to Vinnie.
“I know she was in there! What the hell just happened back there Vin?”
He shook his head slowly. His eye raised to meet Tommy Flynn’s.
“I dunno Tommy.. What I’m trying to figure out is what flew outta the trunk at me? Did you see that shit?”
They drank their coffee in stunned silence as the front door of the diner slowly opened, a bell clanged softly as it closed behind her. Tommy Looked up, his face was now white as a sheet.

There sitting at the counter was the beautiful young girl they had picked up on the road and brutally murdered only hours before. She looked different now, she was dressed in a short red skirt now instead of blue jeans, and her hair was down now and she wasn’t carrying a back pack or wearing a ball cap, but Tommy was absolutely certain that it was her. He nudged Vinnie and nodded towards the counter. Vinnie looked over at the counter inquisitively, the color slowly fading from his face. He leaned towards Tommy.
“It can’t be her! She’s dead man!” He whispered to Tommy.
They watched her for all of thirty minutes as she ate her breakfast and paid the waitress and slowly stood and walked passed them towards the door, and when she slowed down in front of them and winked at Tommy, They knew there was no mistake. It was Her!

Comeuppance
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



It was still dark out side when they followed her out of the diner. They looked around but there were no other cars around except theirs, and they began to frantically look around the small parking lot to try and locate her. Out of the corner of his eye Tommy saw something move in the distance and there she was walking towards the shadows of Crows Crossing.
“She isn’t going to get far dressed like that.” Vinnie said.
They jumped in the chevy and started the motor, and Tommy spun the tires as they pulled back onto Crows Crossing. At first they could see her, but then Vinnie saw her, there she was, walking on the opposite side of the road just slow enough to remain in their line of site, taking them back the way the came.They never stopped to question why they were following, never stopped to ask where they were being led to or how she was staying ahead of them on foot..

They simply followed her- all of the way back to the dirt road. Tommy slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard right- the tires of the Chevy spun in the dirt before skidding to a stop. There she was just at the tree line standing there almost like… she was… at the edge of their headlights.. waiting for them. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of the car..
“You should have just turned around and drove away man!”
But Tommy Flynn was no longer in control of his own actions as he stepped from the car and began walking through the tall grass towards the trees.. He couldn’t hear Vincent Bartoli screaming at the top of his lungs behind him. He couldn’t see for some reason, couldn’t feel. Nothing.. She stepped back into the shadows and Tommy followed her.. And in the distance the dawn was beginning to rise.

It was just beginning to get sort of light, sunrise though was probably still a ways off. Officer Dale Carnegie was on the last leg of his patrol for the night when he saw the dimming headlights of the car one half mile back into a dirt road leading off from Crows Crossing. He’d figured that it was probably some kids that had been out partying and gotten drunk and more than likely passed out in the field somewhere. But still he knew that he had to go check it out. He stopped twenty feet behind the Chevy and when he saw the crow sitting on the roof he suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He got out of the squad car and shined the light on the crow and when it didn’t move- he stepped up beside it almost close enough to touch. It cocked its head to one side looking him straight in the eye.
“Why is it that you guys always seem to know where the trouble is?” He said softly.

He moved to the back of the car to where he saw the trunk lid was ajar. He could feel his chest tighten as he put his hands on it, he stopped to look back up at the crow who was watching his every move closely. He drew a deep breath.
“I’m not going to like what I find in here am I little buddy?”
And almost as if on cue, the black bird cocked its head to one side as he slowly lifted the trunk lid, there inside naked and bound was the body of Vincent Bartoli. He returned to the cruiser and called it in, the crow landed on his hood as he leaned back against the fender waiting for the others to arrive on the scene. He knew that there was a story here somewhere, there always was, someone somewhere had done somebody wrong, and somewhere somehow, by hook, by crook or divine intervention, some how someone or something- would always make it right again. Such are the ways of life and what lies somewhere beyond, just out of sight, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

Paid In Full.

The first ones tried over two months ago, but they’d had that sinking feeling as soon as they’d turned onto Crows Crossing Road that things were somehow going to go horribly wrong. On their way to do the property assessment for Larkin’s Prime bank at the Melrose property, they hadn’t even made it to the three quarter mile long drive way when a swarm of birds flew in front of them causing the driver to swerve and rolling their vehicle over several times before it came to a stop in a ditch. The driver was killed instantly, the assessor died in the ambulance in route to county hospital. What was it about this place that seemed cursed?.

It all started when Ellie Melrose got deathly sick and Martin Melrose was forced to take a second mortgage out on the property to pay for her hospital bills. Unable to work he quickly fell behind on the payments and Larkin’s Prime bank foreclosed on him, swooping in like a blood thirsty pack of jackals. he fought for all he was worth refusing to leave the property where his beloved Ellie passed away, until realizing that he was going to lose the house, one night Martin hung himself in the living room from the top of the chandelier. As soon as he could, Larkin had sent in a team of assessors to estimate the total value of the property at the first opportunity, each time only to be met with mishap and disaster.

This time however, he would send his very best, Bert Harden, Bert was a cold blooded prick, he didn’t believe in all of that cockamamie sentimental nonsense, to Bert business was business, and no power on earth would keep him from doing whatever he deemed necessary to get the job done. In fact so confident he was- Bert Harden had decided to brave the Melrose property and the most haunted stretch of highway in the country all alone. He adjusted his glasses and stopped to study the road sign through the small droplets of rain softly bouncing against the windshield. The sign read: “Crows Crossing Road 1 Mile.” He put the car into gear and drove one mile east to the turn off, he’d barely slowed as he made the turn towards the Melrose house.

Another three miles and he turned into the entrance of the long driveway. He stopped and stared at the fading white two story Victorian style house in the distance when something odd caught his eye. He stepped out of the car to get a better look, at a glance it looked like someone was standing on the front porch. Then he heard a wet rustling sound and when he looked up on the two posts on either side of the driveway, there sat two crows staring at him menacingly. He threw his hands up at them.
“Bah! Go on now damn you birds! I don’t believe in any of that haunted hooeey phooey!” He yelled.
The crows took flight and began to circle as he got back in the car and buckled his seat belt.

He barely gotten the car into gear before he’d felt the accelerator pedal slam to the floor causing the vehicle to lurch out of control, halfway down the driveway he was already doing thirty five, he tried stomping on the brakes to no avail, it was picking up speed when the steering wheel jerked and he felt the sudden impact of the car hitting the oak tree next to the house. The seat belt held him in check, and the airbag deployed otherwise he would have went through the windshield. He tried for several minutes to get the door open but finally decided that it was stuck, and it wasn’t until after he’d given up when it slowly swung free and opened seemingly all by itself. Still groggy Bert Harden staggered from the car, bound and determined to do the assessment he reached into the seat and grabbed his brief case.

Almost defiantly- he stormed up to the front porch where he was once again greeted by the two crows, he gave them a disgusted look but passed them by without a word before he opened the front door of the Victorian and as soon as he crossed over the threshold he could feel the sense of dread washing over him, all at once he felt pain, anguish, sadness and loss, he staggered forward all the while staring up at the very chandelier where Martin Melrose had hung himself. He could feel the whisper roll over the back of his neck and it chilled him to the bone.
“Over 85 years Bert, 85 years this place has been in this family, what would you expect me to do?”
He could feel his grip loosen on the briefcase as it bounced off the floor busting it open, behind him the front door of the house slowly swung closed.





The short fat balding man leaned back in his chair lighting the cigar. He studied the young couple mulling over the papers from across his desk. He flashed them a broad reassuring smile, as their obvious discomfort and confusion seemed to be growing more by the minute. He carefully studied them.
“It’s a great deal. This property won’t last long I can assure you, why we just took over control a little over a month ago, you kids can get in on the ground floor! It won‘t be on the market long.”
The young man seemed uncertain.
“I don’t know Mr. Larkin, we’re going to have to think about this, it’s a big step.”

He smiled again. then leaned over the desk towards them.
“Of course, but bear in mind now, it is a bank owned property and it will be sold as is, and what little repairs need to be done are not included in the price.”
A tall thin man entered the room abruptly, stopping beside of James Larkin. He leaned forward and whispered to him.
“Its Bert harden sir, we haven’t heard from him since Wednesday. He was supposed to report today but we haven’t been able to reach him.”

He rose from his chair and excused himself from the room. He walked briskly down the narrow corridor. The tall thin man nervously keeping pace at his side.
“What was his last assignment?” Larkin asked.
“The Melrose Property out on Crows Crossing Road sir.”
“Get my damn car ready I’m going out there to have a look around for myself.”
He returned to the young couple to conclude their business in a slightly more agitated state than he’d left in.
He straightened his tie and sat across from them, they were still trying to make sense of the paperwork.
“Look here folks, why don’t you take this all home with you and go over it there, and you know- sleep on it, we can get together in a couple of days, if you need more time.”

He watched them almost impatiently as they rose to leave, before retrieving his top coat from the coat rack. He stormed from the room and headed for the elevator.
“Damn people don’t know WHAT the hell they want, they have to be talked into everything. Hmmmph! Larry! Where’s my damn car??”
The long black sedan slowly rolled to a stop at the edge of the curb in front of him. By now, James Larkin was so aggravated by the situation he was about ready to walk to Crows Crossing Road. The valet stepped from the vehicle and gave him an inquisitive look.
“Will you be needing a driver today sir?”
He gave the Valet a blank stare.
“Do I look helpless to you son?”

He drove for almost an hour before he reached the turn at Crows Crossing. Becoming more and more agitated by the minute James Larkin found himself driving faster and faster, so fast in fact he almost passed the driveway of the Melrose property, the gate was wide open it was down pouring rain and he could barely see the road as he began down the driveway.
“I’m going to have your hide for this Harden!” He grumbled.
It wasn’t until he saw Bert Hardens car smashed nose first into the oak tree beside of the house that he began to realize that there was a problem. He slowly stepped from the car and hurried to the porch never once escaping the feeling that he was being watched. The two crows landed on the porch railing, and he stopped and gave them a curious look.

He Stood and watched in awe as the door knob slowly turned and the front door swung open all by itself. He slowly stepped inside as though he couldn’t stop himself. And there swinging from the chandelier at the end of a rope was Bert Hardin. At his feet across the bank papers written in his own blood were the words: “Paid in full.” he felt a chill come over him but never noticed the door slowly closing behind him. And as the crows looked on, the rain would continued to fall, as the thunder rolled and the screams fell silent, and once again the ledger is balanced. And everything always returns to normal, eventually, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2010~

Young Once.

He sits until much time passes, seemingly impervious to everything around him, the breeze that rolls across the green grassy meadow, the soft rain that begins to softly beat down on the lengthy expanses of Crows Crossing Road. It seems like Jacob Kyler has been waiting forever. He looks up at the crow perched up on the longest branch at the very edge towards the top of the tree line. He draws in a long sigh. Its almost dusk and he still isn’t there, he thinks aloud to the crow.
“Maybe he isn’t coming tonight. Maybe he’s finally forgotten about me.”
“Jacob.” The crow tells him, “Give him time, what else have you got?”

The boy sits down in the meadow grass and pulls his knee’s up to his chest and stares out into the darkening sky, finally he sees a lone vehicle slowly roll to a stop at the edge of Crow’s Crossing Road, the engine stops and the drivers side door opens as a lone solemn figure begins to slowly walk into the meadow, thirty yards, in he stops at a tree at the edge of the woods. A large branch extends almost from the bottom of the trunk three quarters up to the height of the tree some thirty feet into the air. He bends down and places a bouquet of flowers at the trunk, he closes his eyes as they begin to tear up. And as the rain begins to fall around his mind begins to take him back

It is august 31st 1961, it is a beautiful late summer day, and Miles Kyler has been put in charge of his nine year old brother Jacob by their mother who has to work today. He is suppose to take him to the carnival that is in town but instead, Mile’s picks up his girlfriend and decides to head for Crows Crossing Road with his little brother in tow. They find the perfect makeout spot, so he pulls the car over and he lets Jacob out and instructs him to go play in the meadow so he and the girl can be alone. Jacob like any nine year old boy would, seems eager at the prospect of playing in and around the woods so Miles Kyler thinks nothing of it. He and the girl begin to kiss, their passion slowly building, that is until he glances in the direction of the woods and sees young Jacob scaling the side of a tree, he is almost fifteen feet into the air when Miles spots him.

He pulls free from the girls grasp and opens the car door and begins to yell out at Jacob to get down from there. He hadn’t noticed the clouds roll in, he hadn’t noticed the soft rain begin to fall, and now the boy is near the top of the limb but the bark of the tree has gotten slippery and he loses his footing, his legs slide over the edge of the tree limb as he clings to a smaller branch. He looks out at Miles who is now running across the meadow in what seems like slow motion, he sees him yelling but there is no sound. His finger slide free from the wet bark, and when nine year old Jacob loses his grip entirely, he falls from almost twenty feet in the air to the ground breaking his neck and killing him almost instantly.

The images have never left him, nor the feelings of guilt, he has carried it with him his entire life, through three failed marriages. Through the alcohol dependency. Through the drug addiction. And even though he came through it all and had somehow survived, he knows that he can never forget, nor be forgiven. He can never be whole. He opens his eyes as the rain softly mixes with the bitterness of the tears. His mind hopelessly going over every single “If only I had..” He places the flowers at the trunk of the tree and Miles Kyler’s 65 year old eyes slowly scan the dark skies surrounding Crows Crossing Road, finally coming to rest at his own feet.
“Maybe someday Miles. Maybe someday.”

He doesn’t hear the voice, as he slowly turns back to the road and moves towards the gray Lexus. He doesn’t feel the rain, nor the wind, he grabs the door handle and opens it finally stopping to look back at the trees now he see the crow sitting on a line fence post. His lips slowly begin to move as he stares at the lone bird.
“Could you-” he stops to wipe the moisture away from his mouth before looking back up at the Crow.
“Could you tell him.. That I’m so sorry. And I have always missed him?” he begins to cry. “and I hope to God that somehow he has found a way to forgive me?”

He turns to the Lexus and now the crow is perched above the drivers side door. The sight startles him.
“How did you?”
“It isn’t Jacobs forgiveness that you require Miles. First you must forgive yourself, only then will you know peace.”
He looks back over his shoulder and for a brief moment he sees the young boy standing at the edge of the woods, smiling and waving at him, he looks no different in 2009 than he did in 1961. And Miles Kyler tries to force his lips to smile.

He slowly raises his trembling hands to wave back as the boy disappears from view. He gets in the Lexus and starts the engine, and pauses to stare out the window as light slowly gives way to the dark. Tomorrow will be a new day, a new chance, to learn to forgive, to heal, to be whole again.
Tomorrow will be a new day here as well, where the tree lines are endless, where regret is non existent, and hope reigns supreme, and every spirit roams free, forever young, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright © 2009.~

Another 90 Feet.

He would sit for hours in his chair by the window staring out into the world in which he was no longer an active part of. He would dream, often while wide awake, of hitting baseballs into the deep green grass of the outfield at Turner park, the crowd would cheer him as he rounded the bases headed for home, and he would wave at them. He would give anything to experience the thrill of just running another 90 feet between those bases. But now, the roar of the crowd has grown still and silent, and the disease that eats at his body slowly, is all that there is now he thinks. What he would give just to run free one more time.

The young man enters the room and slowly sits down beside of Bobby Barton. But the man sitting beside of the window stares emotionless out at the drizzling rain, and barely acknowledges that he is no longer alone.
Charlie Barton puts his hand on his older brothers shoulder.
“Bobby? They’re saying that they have to fight you to take your medicine, Bobby.. Please bro you have to-”
He slowly turns to face him his eyes beginning to water.
“Have to what Charlie? Take their medicine so I can live another second, minute or day? Look at me Charlie.. Just look at me for once.. This cancer is eating me alive. Does this look like I’m living to you? Bro. I’m not living, I’m existing.”

Charles Barton looks away from his brother, he can feel the tears welling up in his own eyes.
“Charlie look at me man. And this time for the love of whatever God you pray to at night, this time, don’t just look at me Charlie, see me for once. Just see me.”
He turns to him.
“Bobby I don’t want you to die.”
“I’m already dead.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Charlie man, I was a professional baseball player , for three years running, I was the fastest guy in the Majors, nobody ever threw me out, nobody ever caught me. That was living man. This? This shit here? Now I can barely walk across the room without one of these nurses telling me to sit down. This shit here? This ain‘t living bro.. this is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

They both sit in silence for a time staring out at the gathering rain clouds, many minute’s have passed when Bobby Barton turns to face his brother again.
“Charlie, we have to face it, I only have a few more days left, I know it, the doctors know it, hell everybody knows it, even if nobody wants to admit it. I’m going to be dead in a couple of days or so.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Charlie?”
“What Bobby?”
“Bro.. do you want me to die happy? With a little peace?
“What do you want me to do?” The younger brother asks.

He turns the study the nurse’s. the look of regret and disdain growing slowly like a slow burning fire in his eyes.
“I miss it. You know? Running I mean. The freedom, the feeling, that nothing on earth could ever catch me, Charlie?”
He kneels down in front of his Brother.
“Yeah?”
“Promise me something. Promise me that you’ll get me out of here before I die, don’t let me die in here bro. please?”
“And go where Bobby?”
“Anywhere that I can run just one more time bud, let me feel that just one more time.”
“There isn’t a baseball diamond around for miles, where would we go?”
“Anywhere but here Charlie.. Anywhere but here.”




He returns two days later to the nursing home where his brother is waiting for his last days, he checks in and asks the head nurse of the whereabouts of Bobby Barton. She nods towards the community room.
“He’s in there young man.” The older woman tells him. Her cold eyes never leaving her magazine.
“Ma’am? Would it be alright if I take my brother outside for some fresh air?”
She silently nods without looking, giving him a slight wave. At this point he is certain that his brother is correct in not wanting to stay here, they don’t seem to care. He warmly greets Bobby Barton and begins to push the wheel chair to the back sliding double doors that lead out onto the main patio. There is no one there but the two of them.

Charlie Barton waits for five whole minutes to see if anyone will come out and check on them, when no one does he pushes the wheel chair along the sides of the home until he and his brother are out in front of the building. He stops at the side of his car and loads his brother into the passenger seat, still no one is coming. He sits down in the drivers seat and drives away in haste. He looks over at Bobby Barton who is now smiling for the first time in months.
“So Charlie.. Where are we going?.”
“Just hang on Bobby.. I found a place.. Out on Crows Crossing Road.”
He shot a nervous glance at him.
“How long do you think it will be before they notice that you are gone?”
“I don’t know.. What time is it?”
“5:35 pm.”
“They are probably calling the cops right now. You’d better hurry Charlie.”

Within minutes they can hear the sirens coming up behind them as Charles Barton pulls out onto Crows Crossing Road and steps down harder on the accelerator pedal. The rain begins to fall as the sirens draw closer.
“Just another mile Bobby. Are you sure that you are strong enough for this?”
He pulls over the car sliding off of the shoulder and jumps from the drivers side of the vehicle. They are coming now so he moves quickly to get his brother out of the passenger seat. He points out into an empty field.
“Home plate bro, its 90 feet out, right there in the grass go Bobby its waiting for you!!”

And as his bare feet touch the soft green rain soaked grass, Bobby Barton feels a sensation that he hadn’t felt in over a years time. He feels alive, he walks out into the center of the field to where he sees carefully placed sandbags set at 90 feet apart, and when his feet touch home plate, he knows that he is finally where he belongs. He barely hears it coming from the roads edge behind him. As the policemen drag his brother to the ground. The words seem surreal and slowly roll past his ears like distant thunder.
“Runnnn Bobbbbby!”

For a time, for a very short time, it is as if he can hear the crowd cheering him on as he runs for home, his blood coursing, his heart pounding, legs reaching one in front of the next, and as his frail body falls to the ground they are on him trying to save him from fate. He stares up at the pouring rain, as they urge the paramedics into the field. His heart slowing with each passing second, he stares up at the Crow, and there is no more pain. For they may take his body, but his soul shall forever run free, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. copyright © 2008~

Flying Blindness

He listened to the conversation intently coming from the booth next to his in the small building called “City Diner” he came here because it was a strange little place that didn’t seem to mind that a person still smoked a cigarette after breakfast as long as they did it in the smoking section. He exhaled a soft plume of gray smoke as his eyes slowly drifted down to the front page of the Sutterville Times. The headline spread out across the front page: “Missing Tallmadge Girl, Sally Ann Miller, Still Not Found.“ his ears strained against the noise to hear what the two young men behind him were saying. The conversation seemed to flow around the place where the young girl was last seen.

Being new to the area Terrence Butler knew nothing about Crows Crossing Road other than there were some of those really annoying birds that lived out there. oh he’d heard the outlandish claims by the locals, the Crows that lived out there were special, no, not your run of the mill birds by any stretch, these Crows were the keepers of the spirit world. He dismissed every account as total bullshit, and had many times offered to prove that they was nothing special about the crows by going out to Crows Crossing to kill one of them, just to bring back the body to show everyone that See? I told you its just a bird.

He finished his coffee before checking his watch, as he reached across the table to stub out the cigarette butt. He could still hear the conversation as the voice's wandered through the fake plastic plants that separated the two booths. “If She’s still out there, the crows will protect her until help comes.. And if anyone has hurt that poor young girl well then.. God help them.” he rose from the booth and headed for the counter to where he paid for his breakfast. He handed the cashier a twenty and she gave him his change as he turned his head to face the rain soaked picture windows in front of City Diner. He turned back towards the waitress, “Does it ALWAYS rain here?” he asked her in an agitated tone. She smiled. “Pretty much.”

She studied him for a time before turning her attention towards the other patrons. He stepped out through the front door and headed for the pick up truck, stopping momentarily to ask a young man about to enter the establishment for directions. “What’s the quickest way to Dutton?” the young man turned and looked to the east and raised his fore finger pointing at some trees. “C.C.R. it’s right on the other side of those trees. You could go with state route 12 but it’ll take you at least three hours longer than if you take Crows Crossing.” he nodded silently as he lit another cigarette. He got into the truck and turned the key and headed for Crows Crossing Road.

Lost Along the way
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The rain wasn’t that heavy at first, as it softly tapped at the windshield of the Ford F-150 pick up truck. His thoughts sifted through the stories that he’d been hearing of this strange place, Ghost stories, stories of life and death, and the strange Birds that flew there. He drove the thoughts out of his head and tried to concentrate on the road. He never believed in shit like that, ghost stories, birds watching over the dead. It was all superstitious baloney, it had to be. He never believed in anything he’d supposed, only what he could see and touch, ever since he was a kid, always with him, there was nothing more than a world in the physical sense.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he felt the Ford’s steering wheel jerk in his hands and the engine slowly began to sputter and die. Angrily, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel as he made his way to the shoulder of the road. He got out in the rain and lifted
The hood to examine the engine looking for any signs of mechanical failure. But it wasn’t until he looked up that he saw the large black shadow circling overhead. He slowly stepped away from the vehicle as the large Black crow landed on the hood and stared at him.

He paused to try to lit another cigarette shaking his head all the while. “You can’t be too damn bright if your flying around in this kind of weather” he had barely gotten the words out when the crow flew straight at him forcing him to duck and lose his footing sending him sprawling on the wet shoulder of the asphalt. Angry he began to yell at it as he rose to his knees, “Go on! Get outta here damn ya!” he threw a rock at it and the bird circled high into the sky and came again flying straight down at him. He ducked and rolled as it barely missed him, finally it came to rest on a stump just at the edge of the tree line.

Time and time again he threw rocks at it, almost hitting it several times but it remained unmoved. Now, he was beginning to get a headache, as he slowly calmed down, he began to wonder. “So.. Why are you just sitting there? Damn it, I almost hit you like six times.” he went to the cab of the Ford and pulled out the flashlight from under the seat and slowly walked towards the crow. He was a mere two feet from it when it flew through the trees and landed another ten feet away, Terrence Butler and the crow repeated the entire performance three more times before the cynical young man realized that the strange bird was trying to get him to follow it.

Finale.
~~~~~~~



Some seventy yards into the woods the game abruptly ended as the crow now had refused any further retreat from Terrence Butler. It simply sat up on a tree branch, its feathers ruffled against the softly falling rain. He shined the light around in circles several times before shining it back up at the unmoving Crow which was now looking directly down at him. He leaned back against a tree and tried to light another cigarette.
“So now what big boy? Are we just going to sit here all night?.”

He’d just barely gotten the words out when the muffled sounds of something stirring at the bottom of the ravine and a disturbing thought had both simultaneously crossed through his mind. A chill began to tug at him as he quickly looked back up at the Crow, and then finally towards the ravine.
“No way this can happen.” he thought to himself. And yet when he made his way down into the ravine, the flashlight began to illuminate the small form of a young child.

Frantically he tried to remember the name from the papers headline. “Sally Ann Miller?” he softly called out. He climbed down into the ravine and there she lay, muddy and bruised but very much alive. She whimpered softly as he picked her up and looked up at the Crow. “Ok. I believe you now. Please show me how to get us out of here.” the crow began to make its way back out of the woods towards the road with an eager Terrence Butler in tow. When he’d finally made it back to the truck he gotten out the cell phone and began to dial 911 and related the location to the operator. He wrapped the child in his coat and together he, the crow and Sally Ann Miller, all three waited for aid to arrive.

They sat in silence as Terry Butler became lost for a time in his thoughts. Finally, through the soft rapping of the rain came the first distant wails of sirens cutting through the dark afternoon sky. Once again he looked up at the crow. “You know they’re never gonna believe this.” he watched in silence as the bird returned to the sky, circling several times before disappearing. he would tell them the story several times without wavering, about the girl, about the crow. Somehow they had believed him, without question, for everyone knows as the crow knows that nothing is ever as it seems here on Crows Crossing Road.

Scratch A.B.T copyright © 2008.