The Tree Goddess

by Tom Raimbault

  Mary was beginning to feel guilty with the amount of fun, especially after wishing she had, in fact, made that margarita mix for a spooky Halloween party.

  Shelly had the last crypt to open. The hope and smiles soon turned to dread as her face became pale. “Mary, there's something in here!”

  Mary's hand rose to her mouth in anxiety. How terrible it would be to discover the rotting corpse of her dear cousin, Kelly. But it was only a cooler that Mary soon took hold of and slowly lifted the top. Bottles of beer floated in what was once ice. It perplexed Mary. “Beer? Daren has beer in here? So much for being sacred!”

  Shelly had to ask, “Is he an alcoholic or something?”

  Mary replied, “Not that I know of. He used to drink heavily before we were engaged. Now he just drinks beer, plenty of it.”

  Mary remained motionless for a brief moment and then restated her original question. “I mean why does have to hide beer in here? Why can't he just put in the house?”

  While closing up the crypt in disgust and exhaling the disappointment along with any remaining anxiety, Mary made a suggestion that would restore the fun in the evening. “Well, what do you say we end this Halloween party with a pitcher of margaritas?”

  Shelly perked up, “Oh yeah; now you're talking!”

  But before switching the wall sconces off and locking the door, Mary paused at the peculiar condition of the floor. It seemed to bow, particularly at the center. The building had only been up for a little over a year; but through time, the floor would certainly cave in. She commented, “Do you want to know what my brilliant husband did? He went against my wishes and quickly built his mausoleum over the ancient well.”

  Shelly quickly asked, “Ancient well?”

  Mary pointed to the center of the floor. “Shelly, there used to be a large hole over there. It was probably an ancient well. Anyway, when I was growing up, I remember that the hole could never be filled! Apparently, Daren had cemented over the hole, like my grandfather tried to do for years, and then constructed the building. And now, his mausoleum is sinking into the ground! I laugh! It couldn't have happened to a better person!”

  Chapter 48

  It was a Saturday night in mid-October. Dana sat with an empty wine glass before her while listening to the end of the confusing and unbelievable story. She was beginning to feel a bit queasy, probably brought on by the cheap wine that boasted the Tree Goddess painting. It had a unique taste, but not bad. The ill feeling would probably wear off soon.

  Not all Dana's questions had been answered. “Okay, so Mary suspected that her husband was killing women and keeping their bodies in the mausoleum. But that doesn't explain the artist who made the painting on the bottle. Why did he have encounters with them before they disappeared?”

  Daren took the final gulp of wine from his glass and set it down on the table. He had been referring to himself as “Mary's husband” throughout the story.

  At that very moment, his wife's best friend, Shelly, had entered the Trivelli house. Mary discovered that the keys to the mausoleum were left near the edge of the bed, right where Daren had intentionally left them. Tonight would be a “spooky Halloween party” for the two women. Too bad Mary didn't whip up her famous margarita mix before visiting the mausoleum.

  Savoring every last bit of flavor, Daren exhaled. “Ahhhhh, good wine! What did you think?”

  Dana didn't want to hurt his feelings, “It was alright.”

  This was Daren's secret “bachelor pad” that was a good hour from home. Men who make plenty of money can afford such luxuries. Most men only wish for their own private pad where they can drink wine in peace and bring home beautiful women. Of course Mary would be livid if ever discovering Daren's other place.

  Would Dana ever have her question answered? “What about the artist? What did he have to do with the disappearances?”

  Daren had no idea the very depth of what he played with. He assumed that the few vivid dreams of the artist who had a fascination with his women were only dreams and nothing more. It was necessary to come up with a quick explanation. “The artist served as a scout. He had some kind of psychic connection with Mary's husband and would announce through dreams when the next sacrifice was found.” Although trying to sound humorous, Daren had no idea how accurate that statement was.

  Dana stood up. “Okay, that's just weird. You're beginning to scare me! And I'm not feeling too well. Can I have a drink of water?”

  Daren rose from his seat, “Of course, I'll get one for you right away.”

  Dana followed him into the kitchen where a tall glass was pulled from the cupboard. He had a water cooler in the kitchen and filled the glass with crisp, clean refreshment. Handing it to Dana he watched as she gulped it down while looking so much like his beloved Mary.

  It quickly reminded him that his own wife was due to call any minute. Daren missed the window to call which would have announced his fictional landing at the airport. In reality, he had spent the past few days preparing for his special night out with Dana.

  Dana walked over to the sink to set the glass in. While doing so, she noticed that the bottom cupboard doors were all locked. “Why do you…”

  Daren's large hands tightly wrapped around Dana's throat as the woman silently fought for dear life. Her eyes spoke of the terror while pleading for his mercy. At one point Daren nearly stopped because she reminded him so much of his dear Mary. But the job needed to be done; mercy could not be given. The weight of Dana's body soon weighed down on Daren's strangling arms and then collapsed into a lifeless shell.

  With Dana now dead, Daren straightened out her limbs and carefully removed her clothes. She looked so much like Mary; so much, in fact, that Daren nearly believed he had made a mistake until a call came through the cell phone. It was his wife, thank goodness.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey! Did you touch down, yet?”

  Daren quickly inhaled. Hopefully Mary would believe him. “Yeah; you know Mary, I stopped in Robin Creek at some hotel. I'm so exhausted and keep falling asleep behind the wheel. Do you mind if I spend the night?”

  “No, go on right ahead. I'd rather you be alive.”

  It was too easy; was she on to him? “Thanks, Babe! You sure you're not mad?”

  “No, Daren; I don't care. You work hard and I'm sure you're exhausted.”

  Surely, Mary had found the keys. “Alright… Oh, hey, I was wondering if…”

  That might sound suspicious. Keys to the mausoleum should be the last thing on his mind. “Nah, never mind! Love you, Babe! See you tomorrow morning!”

  “Love you too, Daren!”

  Before beginning his project, Daren took both empty wine bottles and peeled off the Tree Goddess paintings. It was best to print up a couple new ones for the next time he opened a bottle of wine. The dreams of the painter were so vivid that he could actually see the Tree Goddess and remember it. Nearly obsessed with what was seen in the dream, Daren used the PC Paint Pad along with photo shop to copy and paste a frightening tree (found on the Internet) and then embedded various limbs within the image, followed by alteration of color. Orange background with jack-o-lanterns suggested something that of Halloween.

  Once the labels had been peeled and discarded, he unlocked two of the bottom cupboard doors. The center frame had been altered so that it could be quickly removed, making it easy to partially pull out a glass tank of dark, red wine. Tonight, Kelly was enjoyed. But next time he drank wine, he might prefer something with a full body. The tank that he dunked the empty bottle of wine in at that moment contained the year-dead, rubenesque body of Sara, late owner of the Mapleview Coffeehouse. If he preferred something more lively and exuberant, he might have chosen wine from the next tank over, Stephanie. And after she's aged about a year, Daren will have a sweet and pleasing wine, made possible by a mock-Mary. Very few people understand the fine fruits of necrophagia, but Daren was a true connoisseur!

  Locking up Sara's cabinet and then sealing the two bottles of wine, D
aren next turned his attention to the evening's project. Two bottom cupboard doors on the left side had been unlocked, and the center frame was removed. An empty, glass tank was pulled out onto the floor. Keep in mind that the entire bottom row of cupboards had been modified so that all shelving was removed, making room for the 4 flavors of wine.

  Finally, Daren could have Mary like never before! It was only a mock-Mary, but would probably taste the same. And it would take a good year for her to age. Her lifeless, naked body was gently laid in the tank. The tank was lifted and pushed back into the cupboard.

  Daren next walked out to the parking lot where his red pickup truck sat near the back. Needless to say, Dana wasn't aware of his other vehicle, and neither was Mary. Tonight it sat parked with a hardtop installed on the bed. Inside, cases and cases of red, table wine waited to be unloaded. It was a job that took 15 minutes, carrying stacked cases in the condo two at a time.

  Once inside, bottles were opened and the contents dumped into Dana's tank.

  Halfway through the job, Daren thought to himself, “Oh my; I believe I've made a hybrid wine. Dana was drinking Kelly tonight.”

  The End!

  Author Biography

  Tom Raimbault resides in the Chicago land area with his wife and two daughters. When not writing, he works as a lab technician at a telecommunications company and is self-described on his resume as a “technology professional” who has worked with cellular & IP infrastructure, biomedical equipment, emergency two-way radios and computer hardware.

  Tom began to produce weird writings back in 2000 while working the graveyard shift. The nightly edits were emailed to a small collection of coworkers who looked forward to something unusual to keep them awake or humored.

  This practice was ended when he was moved to a different shift. Sadly, his enjoyment of writing was forgotten for several years until the autumn of 2007 when old friends received a “blast from the past” email with the recognizable words, “Hello All”. The strange writings and short stories had resumed and a personal website was soon to follow.

  In autumn of 2009, Tom published his first book, Freaked out Horror (a collection of short stories), through Create Space and was soon available on Amazon and Kindle. The work was revised and republished in 2011 with additional stories.

  If you enjoyed the adventures of Mapleview in this book, be sure to get your first installment of the Amber trilogy, The Death Mask. It was released in autumn of 2011. The three books will continue the unfolding Mapleview stories.

  Tom stays in contact with his readers by offering free short stories and writings throughout the week. Check out his website that includes the blog at: http://sites.google.com/site/tomraimbaultwritings/

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for taking time to read The Tree Goddess. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.