by Evan Bond
Chapter One
It wasn’t the first time a knife had been held to her throat and it wouldn’t be the last. The memory of her ex-husband crept up on her like a lion hunting its prey. She remembered the utter fear she had felt that night. Though she knew he wouldn’t actually kill her, he was drunk enough to make a mistake. Sasha had known better to fight with him. Instead, she lay there and waited for his bout of anger to pass.
While she waited, she thought of her daughter Tara. If something awful happened, what would happen to Tara? Would he hurt her too? The thought of her daughter having to face the torment she did during his drinking fits scared her to death. It was the biggest fear of her life.
“Tara, sweetheart,” Sasha started. “Are you comfortable back there?” Her daughter said she was fine but complained the trip was taking too long. Sasha smiled and shook the awful memories from her mind. “I know, honey, but we should be there very soon.”
“But why are we moving so far away?”
“You know why, sweetheart.”
“But I don’t want to leave my life behind.”
“Sometimes we need to do things we don’t want to do. Sometimes we have to.”
“Ok.”
Tara stopped questioning her mother and continued playing on the tablet in her lap. Oblivious to her were the tears her mother now wiped away silently. Sasha felt like an awful mother. Making her move away from her school and all of her friends seemed like the worst thing to do to her. She was being uprooted from her life, from the only house she had ever known. All of her friends would become distant memories. It was upsetting for a girl of nine. Hell, it was upsetting for a woman of thirty-seven. But it was necessary. Sasha told herself she had to do it.
No one knew where they were going, not even Sasha’s own mother. The abuse had become apparent to her in the end. In fact, it had been her idea for Sasha to leave. “Don’t tell anyone where you’re going,” her mother had instructed. “It’s best if we not know.”
Sasha had taken her mother’s advice and loaded a small trailer with anything that would fit. Taking Tara, they headed off to a small, New England town she could barely find on a map. They would be all but living off the grid like some sort of doomsday prepper family.
Up ahead stood a weathered sign with an overgrown tree hanging low enough to obscure it. The brown paint and yellow letters seemed faded and ignored. The beauty of the golden yellow and red leaves in the tree was lost on Sasha. Instead, she read the sign to herself. Welcome to Carlisle, Maine. Est. 1692 Our Lands Whisper with the Echoes of the Past.
The quote on the sign had been oddly beautiful. It was a poetic notion that only the early settlers of the country could have possibly written. She found herself inspired to learn as much about the town history as possible, once she was settled in of course.
Finding this small town had been a mere coincidence. When the plan to take Tara and run away had solidified in her mind, Sasha had called several real estate agents miles from her home. None could assist her due to the lack of funds. In fact, many had even laughed at her and hung up. Before she could feel defeated, however, she was given a tip to try a real estate company in Maine. Supposedly, their specialty was finding the right house for anyone on any budget. Naturally, Sasha had been skeptical but was left with no other choice.
The overly excited man nearly talked her ear all the way down to the floor. He would not shut up about the beautiful countryside and how gorgeous Maine was. Finally, he told her of a small house, which was more like a cottage, in a small town in Maine. Without much hesitation, Sasha had said she’d take it.
“Don’t you want to see it first?” The man had asked. But it didn’t much matter what it looked like. Sasha knew a Godsend when she saw one. This was her opportunity to leave her old life behind.
As the town rose into view, Sasha slipped a Xanax into her mouth and swallowed it dry. The thought of meeting everyone and explaining where she had come from, what little she could really share, did nothing for her stress levels. When she had told her psychiatrist about the move, she had prescribed extra medication, on top of the two pills she had to take daily for her depression. Psychiatrists really love their pills but they worked so Sasha didn’t complain.
“Mommy, are we there?” Tara asked, placing the tablet in the seat next to her. Sasha nodded at her through the rearview mirror. She could see pure joy in her daughter’s eyes. Not excitement for the new life she was being forced to create. Not for the joy of seeing their new home. No, her excitement was with ending her cramped existence in the backseat of the car.
Sasha pulled into the driveway and stared at her new home. It was small. Except, small wasn’t the right word. The whole building could have fit inside a studio apartment. But what it lacked in indoor space it more than made up for with the yard. The backyard stretched for several yards before disappearing into the surrounding forest. A Thomas Kinkade painting came to mind as she stared at the cottage. Despite the size, it felt perfect.
Before Sasha could protest, Tara tore off down the driveway and into the cottage. Clearly, she was excited to get out of the car, stretch her legs, and probably pee. Sasha smiled and hoped there were other little girls in the town her daughter could get to know. She would desperately need a friend.
She spent the next couple of hours unloading the trailer. There wasn’t much to unload and, lucky for her, the cottage had already been furnished. The furniture was old and rickety but it was all they needed. There wasn’t a television anywhere in sight but she felt they could live without one for a while.
As she unpacked a box in the kitchen, a knock came at the door. Sasha knew it must be the inevitable neighbor greeting and put on her best fake smile. She pulled the door open and smiled at the seemingly cheerful woman on her doorstep.
“Hello there, you must be the new lady.” Her New England accent was thick.
“That’s me. My name’s Sasha,” she said, proffering her hand. The woman shook it and gave her a polite smile.
“Gwen,” she responded. Spotting Tara on the couch, she said “Well, hello there little one. What’s your name?”
“Tara,” she said with a frown.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Tara shrugged and motioned to her tablet. “I can’t get the internet to work.”
Gwen laughed.
“We don’t have a very good signal out here. It’s best if you use a landline if you want to make phone calls or get online. It’s tough on the young ones but that’s how it is.”
Sasha smiled. “I’ll be sure to get that setup. Wouldn’t want her getting bored out here. Not that there’s much to be bored with,” she nervously back peddled on her words, afraid she had offended the woman. “It’s such a lovely town and the view is amazing.”
“Yes, it really is. Well, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. If you ever need anything, I’m the next house down. It’s a bit of a hike but a nice one. You two should come to the town center tomorrow evening and introduce yourselves. We’re having a nice little fall festival.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sasha said, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it. Gwen smiled and said her good-byes. Seconds later, she and Tara were alone in their cozy little cottage once again. Things seemed to be going better than Sasha had expected. Her neighbors seemed friendly enough, at least the one she met. Not that it mattered to Sasha. Socializing was the farthest item on her list of things to do. Her depression made it hard to want to get out and make friends. Considering her situation, she wasn’t overly willing to push through those feelings.
But she wondered if it would be good for Tara to get out and meet the people of the town. Maybe there would be some kids she could befriend. She would need them now more than ever.
The choice was obvious but she still felt unsure. There were real benefits to getting her daughter out to socialize but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t quiet that voice in her mind that told her to bury her head in the sand. As always, she doubted and second-guessed her own decisions. If she went, she’d spend the whole time wondering if she had said the wrong thing or made herself look foolish. If she didn’t go, she would become paranoid about what the town thought of her. Either way, she couldn’t win. In the end, she had to think going was the better decision.
“Hey, Tara.” She looked at her beautiful daughter sitting on the couch with a frown on her face. “You want to meet everyone tomorrow at a festival?” Tara shrugged. “It might be fun. You might meet a friend there. Maybe even a boyfriend.”
Tara giggled. “Ew, I don’t want a boyfriend.”
Sasha smiled at her daughter’s innocence, knowing one day it would vanish. She wasn’t looking forward to those days and she prayed like hell she never developed the same disorder as her mother. Tara was too precious to suffer such debilitating thoughts. She deserved everything the world had to offer and should never experience pain like Sasha had endured through her life.
Emotions crashed over her like a rogue wave over the bow of a ship. She could feel herself sinking into the low pit of anguish and despair. The fight to suppress was nearly an impossible one. She knew she had to fight back the tears for the sake of her daughter, especially now. Tara finding her in a heap on the kitchen floor would do her no favors. Sasha managed to fight back her feelings and picked up an unpacked box. She headed into the bathroom with the excuse of unpacking.
Once the door was shut, she collapsed on the floor and everything flooded out of her at once. Her ex-husband, uprooting her daughter’s life, the abuse, and her depression all flew through her mind at lightning speed. It played in her mind like a projector playing all her failures and mistakes back to her.
There was no stopping the memories now. The floodgates were open. A particularly nasty memory flashed through her mind and she winced as if in pain. Her husband had broken a beer bottle in the kitchen. The little pieces smashed against the wall and flew in every single direction. Beer dripped down the wall and formed a small puddle on the floor. She found her face crammed against the cold floor only inches from the puddle. She felt disgusting and pathetic as he had his way with her. All she could to not lose her mind was watch as the beer dripped down the wall until it was over. When he was finished, he told her to clean up the mess. Even now, she was unsure if he had meant the glass bottle and beer-stained wall or the disgusting substance his small member had left behind. Either way, she had done both.
Naturally, the memory only made her cry more. Even after leaving and getting far away from home, she couldn’t stop feeling as if she had deserved it. After all, he would complain she didn’t give it up enough and she always had some sort of excuse. He did the things he did because he was sexually frustrated. Rape was impossible, they were married. At least, that was what he had said when he found her in a bundle of depression on the bathroom floor the following morning.
“You know how I can get when I drink. Mix that together with sexual frustration and…” He had trailed off. Or maybe she had stopped listening. All she remembered now was that night had been the beginning of the end. For the first time ever, she had thought about hurting him, about fighting back. Multiple times he had threatened her with a knife, hammer, or whatever he had been holding at the moment. There would have been no question she had been defending herself.
Sasha sat up on the bathroom floor and wiped the tears from her face. The spiraling, it seemed, had come to an end. But these things always had a way of sneaking back up on her when she least suspected it. A tiny knock came at the door and Sasha jumped to her feet.
"Mommy, I have to pee."
"Alright, honey, just a second."
A brief glance in the mirror and Sasha touched up her hair and wiped away the smearing makeup. Sasha pulled open the bathroom door and smiled. "All yours," she said and headed off into the living room to unpack the remainder of the boxes.
Chapter Two
The house was completely silent, save for the cicadas outside with their endless chirping. Claire was used to them by now. In fact, they helped her sleep. She had lived in Carlisle for over thirty years and was used to the deafening silence inside her home and the utter roar of insects outside. It was a balance she had grown so accustomed to she couldn't sleep if it became disturbed.
An unfamiliar sound stirred her from her sleep. Though faint, the echo which muttered through her home was enough to disturb Claire. Somewhere off in the darkness of the house, something had been knocked off a counter. She was sure of it. But that was impossible. Claire lived alone and didn’t own any animals. She wasn’t the pet keeping type. She hated pets. They were disgusting creatures that provided nothing in return and only required handfuls of work. A truly pointless addition to a happy home, in her opinion.
Like most people, Claire’s worst fear was an intruder. She was too old to protect herself in case someone wanted to do her harm. Though, there was no reason to fear. Her neighbors were all friendly and they all got along. Besides, no one in the history of Carlisle had ever committed a violent crime. Inside the city limits of Carlisle, there had never been a single murder. Three hundred years of peace and prosperity. Big city crimes just did not happen in Carlisle.
Even knowing the history of the town, she was still nervous. She couldn't explain why. Then the explanation hit her like a truck. A new woman had come to town today. No one in her thirty years in town had moved to Carlisle, and with good reason. There was nothing there. Modern Americans would feel like they stepped out of a time machine and into a less civilized world. There were no Wal-Marts for a hundred miles. No fast food restaurants, either. Sure, major updates had come to town over the years such as the internet, cable, modern plumbing, and electric cars. But, the structures remained relatively unchanged.
"Hello?" She called out into the darkness. Of course, there was no reply. She was being paranoid. It was an old house making noise, nothing more. She was merely on edge because of the newcomer. Tomorrow, at the fall festival, Claire would meet the woman and grow to love her. Then she would see there was nothing to worry about.
Still, she stared at the dark void that was the doorway to her bedroom. It had to be her eyes playing tricks on her but she could swear there were eyes staring back at her. Cold, glaring eyes seemed to pierce the darkness and into her soul. Nothing seemed to be attached. Merely eyes.
Claire shook her head and clamped her eyes. When she opened them, the vision was gone. She felt like she was going mad. Convinced she was seeing things, Claire rested her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes.
Somewhere in her bedroom, a floorboard creaked. Claire's eyes snapped open but it was too late. A gloved hand was placed over her mouth and held firmly. She tried to scream but it only came out in muffled whimpers. There was barely time for her to register what was happening before a large knife was driven straight through her skull. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and urine soaked her pink nightgown. After a few twitches of the right foot, Claire was dead. The killer pulled the knife from her head with a sickening sucking noise and wiped the blood on either side of her cheeks, making the symbol of a cross. They weren't any ordinary crosses, however. These crosses were drawn upside down. A black candle the size of a small pickle jar was rolled under Claire’s bed before the killer receded into the darkness.
Chapter Three
The morning air was crisp and clean. Sasha opened every window she could, letting in the morning sounds. For the first time in a long time, she was truly happy. It had to be the fresh air. Here, they were far from polluting cities and smog from car exhaust. Unlike the city she was used to, the air felt clean and fresh.
Tara was fast asleep in her bed. Considering the stressful situation Sasha had put her under, she decided to let her sleep in. Besides, a little alone time would
be good for Sasha. As a single mother, she hardly had any time to herself.
There were still plenty of boxes to unpack but Sasha decided to brew herself a cup of coffee instead. While it brewed, she browsed over the furnishings in the cottage. Each piece looked more like it belonged in a museum than someone’s home. But that didn’t bother her. In fact, Sasha loved antiques. There was a certain excitement in never knowing what could be found while searching for antiques.
The coffee maker gurgled and made noise but had yet to dispense coffee. Sasha missed her Keurig. While she waited, she continued to explore the living room. The blue couch stood in the center of the room with a pink floral pattern draped across it. Wooden legs extended from the bottom and curled up like toes on the rug below. On either side of the couch stood an identical, rosewood end table. In several spots, especially on the drawers, there were chips of wood missing. Sasha thought it gave them character.
Sliding open one of the drawers, she found a bible tucked away. She shrugged it off and closed the drawer. Belief had never been a huge concern of hers. Too many terrible things happened around the world for her to accept a loving creator in the sky. Plus, her own life had been littered with misery and despair. She had heard a lot of people suffering from depression turned to faith. For her, it only pushed her farther away.
In the next drawer, she found a wax candle. The wick was slightly singed, signifying it had been lit perhaps once. She pulled it from the drawer and held it in her hands. It was the most peculiar candle she had ever seen. It was about the size of a mason jar and made entirely out of a solid piece of black wax. It hardly made any sense to stash a candle away in a drawer. What was the use of having a candle if it never got lit? Shrugging, she placed it on top of the end table and sat down on the couch.
If she were being honest with herself, she missed her television. There was nothing quite like sitting down in the early morning with a nice cup of coffee and a mindless talk show. Then, of course, at night it was always fun to binge watch her favorite Netflix show. Not having her TV would take some getting used to but she was certain she would. It might just take a while.