Chimbrook

The sun has made its way through the top of the towering canopy of trees and foliage that surround the small stream that is called “Chimbrook” Alan Casey and his young girlfriend Ann Somers have hiked three miles through the woods from the edge of Crows Crossing Road. With metal detectors in hand they are here treasure seeking, for they know of the history of this cold damp and dark place. They have been at it for four hours and have come up with a small pouch of old coins for their considerable labor. However it isn’t enough for Alan Casey, for he knows that up here there is a place that promises treasure beyond his wildest dreams. They follow the stream up the side of the hill and when they round the top deep into the cover he sees it standing there like a defiant giant.
“We’re here.” he tells her.
Ann Somers does not look impressed.
“Where’s here?”
“Chimbrook Manor.” he tells her.



She stops in her tracks suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread. She sits down on a stump and studies the dark silent giant of a house. She looks at Alan Casey.
“No Alan.. I have a bad feeling about this place.. Lets go back to the road.”
Now he’s sitting next to her, and as he puts his arm around her, an odd little breeze kicks up at their back giving Ann Somers a slight but noticeable chill that only adds to her discomfort. He draws a deep breath.
“Ok.. This house is why we came here. there’s money hidden in that house.”
She shudders at the thought. His warm breath brushes across her cheek as he relates to her what he knows of the tale of Chimbrook Manor.

Crow Speak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~



“It was built by Arthur James Chimbrook in 1896 for his young lady love Lila Longstreet. He was much older than her, and people kind of frowned on the relationship. So he built this place to get her away from the prying eyes of other people, where they could be together forever.”
She stands abruptly her face turning slightly pale.
“Oh God!!. I know this story.. He took all of his money out of the bank and brought it up here and forced Lila to stay with him. He hid it somewhere in this house or somewhere around it. Nobody has ever been able to locate it.
But God Alan! Haven’t you ever heard the rest of this story??”
He blinks and sits back down.



“His jealousy drove him insane. She tried to leave him and he kept her prisoner here. And when a member of her family came to take her back to town, he thought the young man was a suitor so he murdered them both right there in the parlor with a wheat sheath. And when the rest of her family finally came two weeks later they discovered the dismembered body parts, but Arthur was no where to be seen. They say that he just disappeared into the woods here, never to be seen again. Alan we have to leave.. People have disappeared up here. Honey-”
He puts his hand on her shoulder and tries to reassure her.
“Baby look.. I didn’t come up here for nothing see? I came up here to bring something back with us. Its in the middle of the day and there are no ghosts. What will it hurt just to take a peek? You wait for me here I‘ll go in alone for just a few minutes, if I don‘t see anything I‘ll come back straight away.. Ok?”

Not a word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~


The two trees that sit on either side of the dilapidated old wooden porch each have a branch that has grown over its sides and it gives it a strange appearance. It almost looks as if two giant wooden arms are reaching out to welcome him. But it isn’t until the two black crows land on those branches and begin to squawk incessantly at him that he takes a small step backwards, and he slowly moves forward making a shooing gesture to make them leave but the two beautiful birds remained unmoved. He cautiously moves between them and the squawking begins again, he steps inside of the large expansion of the doorway and his eyes strain through the darkness to look deeper into the old house, each step he takes drawing him farther and farther into its darkened recesses. He moves towards the parlor, and there he sees in the middle of the floor a small wooden box, he smiles to himself, this looks promising, he slowly enters the parlor and moves towards the box, he sits down on both knees and begins to open it, not daring to think even to himself that this was where the deed was done so many years ago.



Outside of Chimbrook Manor, Ann Somers sits patiently waiting for her man to return. But minutes soon turn into hours and it is now past 12:00 pm. And she has been waiting for two and a half hours. She slowly stands and begins to reluctantly approach Chimbrook, the crows have not left.. And once she reaches the front door the pair of birds look on in silent indifference. Inside she seems to have a clear view of the now partially opened parlor door, she puts her hand on the front and slowly it glides open with a soft creaking noise. She sees Alan in the middle of the floor on his knee’s, and she softly calls to him with no answer. She slowly moves up behind him and places her hand on his shoulder and gives him a small nudge. And when his head slides free from his neck in a clean break and falls to the floor, she can feel the screams choke up in her throat.

C.C.R.
~~~~~~~~~~~

It is just past 5:30 pm on the road of crows, when patrolman Derek Clancy sees the young woman stumbling along in the tall grass beside of Crows Crossing Road. When he stops to check on her, he sees that she seems to be in a daze.
“Miss?”
She stops to look back at him, there in her eyes a vacant stare. But no answer escapes her throat.
“Miss Its going to be cold out here tonight.. Its supposed to drop below 30 degrees. You don’t want to be walking out here on Crow Crossing at night. Would you like a ride-”
His sentence stops when he detects the sight of blood on her hands. And fearing that she may be injured he calls for a ambulance. She sits down in the cruiser and he takes his coat off and covers her with it. A lone crow lands on the lights and he studies it. He stands almost touching it. And it doesn’t move.



“You brought her here.. Didn’t you?.. She was up there in them damn woods somewhere.. Wasn’t she?”
The crow turns its head against the growing breeze. And for a second he could almost hear it speak to him.
“There are some mysteries in this life, that do not wish to be solved. There is no rhyme, nor reason. There is only what is, and what isn’t, and what will never be.”
He turns his collar up at the growing breeze and lights a cigarette, silently watching the young woman quivering in his cruiser, he hopes the ambulance arrives soon.. Its cold when your all alone here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. copyright © 2008.~