In the first instalment, I have found out about the boy whom Jacob has been giving to a fire being. I stopped it from getting him, been shot at. Now, I know I will need help on this story. Who do I trust with this story and how far do I trust them, with it
I was afraid of what would happen next, something had been in the window sill where he had shot. The window was scorched and the glass had melted away. There was nothing on earth that could produce such heat as this and walk away.
I looked at the boy; he looked at me as if he did not see me. His eyes were running with water that he had been crying. Perhaps from fear, or something like that. I looked at his shirt, there was a scratch mark on his chest of his shirt, and there was dried blood on it. That made me, think that this being who had been in his room before. I bit my lip and did a visual of him. He was screaming, blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He looked as if he had been death just having been warmed over. His eyes were separate colors, blond hair, he had a cleft chin. Pert nose, freckles. He was thin and wiry.
Jacob said, “Go?"
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind, there was no way I was leaving his place, not with a story like this on his door step. There must he and explanation for this having occurred here. I wanted to know what he was doing , the answer I knew, and he was not willing to talk. There was a similar mark on his chest too. Not as livid as the one on the boy, but it was there.
His son was in the other room in his shack of a house, he was screaming something. I bolted for the door, Jacob got up and stopped me from going inside the room. It was as if his very life depended upon me not getting there. I was bound and determined to do this, as he was equally determined to stop me.
He looked at me, brought the muzzle of his still smoking rifle to my chest. I felt the heat from the muzzle before it touched me. I stopped right in my tracks, he smiled and told me to go.
His son was still screaming, it tore through my soul, it was like a dagger to my chest to leave him as he was. I stepped backwards and headed for the door that Jacob was telling me to go too. Headed out the door, to the veranda.
The house was a shack with paint peeling from it, weathered beyond what could be considered reasonably aged. The windows were broken, tar paper was blowing in the breeze. It seemed most people steered clear of his place, inside I saw a couple of bottles, that someone had made a still out of. I was not impressed, but I would have been more impressed; if I had seen the lad, who was screaming so much. Was safe?
There were blades of grass broken before the window through which he had shot. I looked around all I saw was I wanted to see what had frightened his son so. Could not see any way to be there, other than to tear through the bulrushes that rose up and concealed most of the yard. I knew I had to get back there to see what was wrong. I would do this, I knew would have to see what was frightening the boy so much.
His son's voice was filled with mortal torment and fear. I did not know as to what I would have to do protect him, but I would if that would help me create my story. My life may depend upon me doing this. I slipped over to the back of the house, as I did this I snapped the bulrushes as though they were but twigs. I left a path that even the blind could see.
When I got there, I saw a window that had two sets of hand shaped scorch marks. The window frame had unmarks going all the way to the window frame. A good portion of the window was gone, it was though the window had been melted there was an image on the glass, it looked as if it had been a shillettoe of what a shape as something, we did not know. The window that remained looked to have been a shillettoe of a human or humanoid being passing through it.
I parted the curtain to see the lad, his eyes were as large as silver dollars, and hid mouth hung open, saliva dripped and ran from the corners of his mouth. I saw silver being roughly the shape of a human heading towards the bed where he lay. It was dressed in perhaps a sweater. Silver sure was visible throughout the clothing, it looked as if it had no concerned in the world other than arriving on the male. Its inside of its hands were covered in this long fur.
I choose to intercept the human. I leapt upon its back, shattering what remained of window's glass as t showered me in razor sharp pieces that rained about me. I barely did this, as it spun about to catch me, its talented claws hit me in the upper shoulder. A Flame erupted and spewed from its touch. It felt as if I had just been touched by a branding iron or a lite candle's wick. I saw smoke as it poured and billowed up from my shoulder and fire sped down my jacket's sleeve and the back of the jacket. Blood ran, sizzled and fell from the wound. The fingers sank to the bone, leaving me withering in pain as it raced across my frame. I felt the heat as if tore through me. It felt as though my flesh had turned to a liquid. I saw smoke oozing off of my body. A puddle of fluid arrived on the floor around me. I looked at my hand and saw flesh drip from my hands like they were a candle being lit, droplets of flesh spilled and erupted into the air. Creating a pool of pink fluid.
The lad erupted out of the bed and tore at me and it. Without any thinking for or of its safety only I suppose mine. He charged at it. His mouth was open like a lion roaring to voice its disapproval of what it was doing. His hands were clutched into fists, his muscles stood ridged and stark. He flew.
The being looked at him as he charged towards it. It looked at him and turned and tore off out through the window it used to get here. The boy was screaming something, what I cannot say. I was satisfied that he scared it off.
Whatever it was, it had something to do with the woman's death and from the looks of this nearly mine, my arm whose shoulder had been burned was not responding to anything I thought. It hung there like s dead plant waiting to be pruned. I was joyous that he scared it off. Whatever it was, I did not know.
Looking at the route it used to get out of here, I saw nothing, that told me any more than what I found when I got here> It was as if it did not exist. The fire abated. My shirt and jacket's sleeve was no more, the back to my lower torso was also gone for good measure.
I walked back into the living room where Jacob was sitting, he looked disrupted by something. I suppose it was me, and his son's aid in protecting me. I looked at my shoulder, to see a burn an inch to an inch and a half in depth there, in the shape of a hand.
"What in God's name was that?" I asked.
Jacob just sat there as if petrified by the sound alone, his eyes did not waver from me as I stood there. Finally he said, “Drink this?" Handing me a bottle with which to drink from as it came from the bottle I presumed was moonshine.
I smelt it, the scent was enough to take my breath away. I almost collapsed from just breathing it. My skin was scarred and had been burned an inch to two in depth. "What was that?"
"The thing, I did not wish to speak of. You angered it!"
"Angered it? Angered? Just what do you think, it was going do to your son!" I demanded, as I drew him out of his chair. I could barely react from quenching the desire to kill him. There had to be a reason, why he done this. There had to be a reason for this, but what?
“The boy does not matter!” Jacob said.
I stood there frozen, by what he had just said. There was no explanation for him to say this. How could he be so, callous as to say this to me. The blood frozen in my veins. I glared at him, trying to fathom what he had done.
There had to be a reason, but what?
“What do you mean?” I asked, unable to even dare to suggest that I knew what he was thinking. Human’s lives are not expendable, it seemed as if he did not care about the boy. What was the monster that had attacked the boy and me.
I did not have an idea as to what he had been doing with the boy. Was he the boy’s father? If so, what did he know about the monster that was there. I wondered what I was supposed to do about the matter.
I left the house in search of an answer to this problem that was before me. There had to be an answer to this? But what could the answer be, that was before me.
The being, I took a couple of shots of it. The being was like a candle’s light in brilliancy. Inside the room where I encountered the being was a pool of liquid or molten glass, through which both I and it had gone through to get there. I had forgotten how hot it was in the room. My nylons were reduced to liquid as it ran down my legs, and my clothing had dissolved into nothingness. I realized that I was feeling cold, the temperature was like an icy chill to my flesh. I looked down and saw that there was no clothing on me.
I had to grab a blanket to go back to my car. I trembled and shuddered from the cold, nerve centers were destroyed. The turned the key, the engine started, I drove as fast as I could away from his house.
I headed towards the land titles branch, to find out who owns the house. It is in the town hall. I walked inside, it was deserted a side form the staff who were working there. They looked at me, as I had grown wings and were a pixie. Seeing as that I did not decide to change into my clothes instead I entered wearing the sheet I had grabbed to keep me from being naked. The sheet was dragging on the ground behind me like a train in a wedding gown.
I asked, “Who owns house number on sunset?”
“Why do you ask?” one of the clerks asked me, he looked me up and down and did not what to make of me.
“I am a reporter, and I would like to know who owns the house that is there?”
“Why are you asking, about that house.”
“Because I want to know is why? Does that not answer your question!”
“I am wondering as to what you are going to get your nose out of joint for.”
“Well, I was down there and I saw a man and a boy!”
“A boy, you say?”
“I did say!”
“What did this boy look like?”
“Blonde hair, freckles, a cleft chin, two mismatched eyes!”
“That cannot be possible!”
The clerk whom I was talking to turned around and left me standing there with my jaw hanging open, as if I was about to take a huge bite out of a pear or apple. He looked scared, as he stepped away from me, as if I had the black plague or something.
Screamed, “Get out of my shop!” at the top of his lungs.
“The fifth amendment says, “We have the right to know! Are you denying this fact, that the citizens have a right to know!” I exclaimed.
“Get out of here, before I call the cops!”
“Please, do so? I would like to see the cops try and stop me from getting what I want and why?”
“That will be a matter, before the police and you. They will show you the door, I promise you!”
“Be that as it may! I will get my story from you with your help or not!” I warned.
“Do not say, I did not warn you, to talk of this matter!”
Shortly thereafter a squad car stopped at the door to the place, two officers walked towards the door, with their guns drawn. The first one stepped inside, pointed his fire arm at me. He said as clear as a bell, “Stop right there. Turn around and step out with me, I will be placing you under arrest, if you are to stay here!”
“What?” I screamed alarmed at what he was saying to me. I had the Fifth Amendment to have up held. If I had to I would see a judge to get the answers I sought. Then I heard the click of the hammer being engaged in his hand gun.
“I am a reporter! I declared.
“Sure, you are?” the clerk suggested to me.
“That is a matter that you will have to take up with a judge, who is not here and so, the clerk is asking you to leave the room. As you have come here, without what you were seeking to find.” The officer advised as he put his hands on my shoulders to pull my hands behind my back.
“I said, okay already!”
We walked out of the building together. I got in my car, as did the cop who brought me out of the building to get into his car. I was in a huff. Driving back to my hotel room, to freshen up.
I knew I would have to talk to a judge about this matter here. I wondered who I would see to create a paper trail. That would allow the editor of my paper to find me, if I was to go missing.
I was brand spanking new, I was like a baby in search of milk, and my milk was a story. This was my story, it had my name all over it. I would show my editor that I had been able to get evidence and a top notch story. Even if it was in this back water town.
I wanted this story as a dog wants a bone. This community would be my start. The editor hired me, as a prank, felt that female journalists were good for one thing, well maybe two things? Cooking and looking like cheese cake which meant he might decide to bed you. However I was one bell who would not like him thinking this way. I had been taken to his place, he said it was all on the up and up. He led me to the bed room, which was when I kicked him in the balls and walked out of his house. I knew he was married, his wife and I got along just fine.
“What could I use to get my story?” I looked over the wad, that Denise gave me as a way to play it close to my chest. This way, I might be able to bribe my way into some resources somewhere or some time. Denise was the editor’s daughter, so, she knew where he kept his stash of mole.
The wad looked big enough to choke a horse, I walked back to my room, slipped the wad into my brassier, to carry with me. No one would think to pat me down there. Would they? I smirked, as I thought of doing this. I had to grab another skirt and scoop necked blouse, I looked at my legs and saw scars from the melted nylons and other apparel.
I waltzed out on the town again. I just arrived as the clerks were closing down the shop. I got out of my car, brought the skirt up to show the clerks my calves, from the knee down they saw my feet in his heels.
One of the clerks froze right where he stood looking at me. His eyes were glued to my games, when the skirt fell, his eyes no longer were resting there.
His eyes climbed to the height of my pontoons. They hung there, like a hawk would fly above a mouse.
I looked at him and saw a reaction, I had seen with the editor of my paper when seeing me, truly seeing me for the first time. I smiled solemnly to myself. I waved him towards me as I stood there looking at him, and the swelling in his trousers. I knew, I no longer needed money. I had him.
He walked up to me, licked his lips. “What is it, you wish?”
To see what you have on the estate I was asking about earlier.” I suggested as I grabbed him by his tie to draw him to my lipstick coated lips. I stopped when his lips and mine met. He wrapped his arms about my neck and small of my back. I found I wanted him as much as he wanted me.
He slipped us both inside the archives room. He dropped to his knees.
After which we got a hold of the files I was looking for, the house had not changed hands in a great deal of decades. There was mention that he had married every twenty years. The wife would vanish as if she did not exist after marrying him. However every twenty years, he would marry another woman, the women had off spring like rabbits, Even though I did not desire to have children I envied what they were able to do?
The girls were not listed or named for that matter, however the boy swore. On average there was one female for three boys. None of them had been old to attend school. Counting the number it was 49 or sixty of each sex.
I wondered as to what had been happening here? For all this time. I still did not know for sure.
I adjusted my apparel to make it not appear as to what we were doing here. There had to be an explanation, but what for what I seen on the estate.
What I found out was that the house had always been in Jacobs hands. From the time the whites had come here, it was his.
Looking through the paper work I saw that the land had been desired by the Algonquin tribe. I could not find out anything that they wanted to gain the land back to their ownership.
The house looked like a plantation house, not one of the other houses in the district. Whatever this house was, it was or had been an expensive ownership of the land. The house looked to have been well regarded by the towns people, at least when he built it.
There had to be an answer to this, but what? Why had the house having gone down in a steep decline to what it now was. A broken down house, there were no servants there.
I looked into the books of marriage and found that there were several women, whom had been married to him. There were several women who had married him, in intervolves of twenty years. There was no listing of them dieing. Also there was a listing of children being born by these women.
There was no sign of him, growing ill. Ever. That makes no sense, he had to be 60 years old. Yet he had been listed the first time as buying the house. Or rather building the house.
There also was an oddity, that these women’s last names were the same. That meant that they were of the same family that did not make sense. There was no way in which the women could not possibly be giving birth to these children. It suggested that they were related to the family.
Genetics would not still be good news, syndrome was being deterred mental to the family. There is no mention of the children after being born. I was astounded by what I was seeing none of it made any sense. Where did the woman come from , I did not know.
I shuddered to think, that I had even a general idea as to what I had stumbled into. The things that I had just read defied everything I knew. None of it made any sense to me. There was no list of these women anywhere in the papers that I had been given to them.
There was no way that we could be unable to do these things.
I suspected that we had to have an answer that would explain this matter. Trouble would be before us. I needed to find a sense of these things being done before us.
I left the building, looking for an answer that would be before us. The employee looked at me as if I had been able to find answer to the problem that I had found an answer to the problem that was before me. Who had slain the woman, whose camera I found by the swamp.
I was astounded for finding the answer to this equation, but that still did not explain why he was so old. Still alive defied all answers that I could find and a range to come through with an answer to this problem.
There was no record of his off spring other than their being born. They must have some record other their being born.
The community had a church, so they were Roman Catholics. The school would be theirs that is where I would check to see if there was any further record of them. I knew, it would be there and the church would have a record of that, too.
So, that was where I was going to. This story was going to make me, famous. Yes, sire. Bob. I was going to write it, it would have my name on the by line. This story would maybe make it in print for a novel. I would just have to plan my ideas, a better. I would exhaust every lead to get this done.
By the lord’s name, it would be. My editor will listen to what I have to say without a moment’s hesitation it will be published.
I decided, I would go there next. Taking off my hi heels to run to my car, to get in and drive off to there. I saw the church’s huge steeple rising into the air like an out stretched hand to the heavens as if to call for god to see it there. The bell tolled the hour from its steeple, and it was almost five now. I would no doubt have to look into this matter tomorrow.