The Resurrectionist
Copyright 2014 Michael Gesellchen
Published by Michael Gesellchen at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About the Author
Connect with Michael Gesellchen
Chapter One
A fight broke out. A fight older than time itself, if time truly existed. A fight not fought on land, sea, or air. A fight not fought between men or nations. Inside you, inside me, an intimate conflict is waged on the battleground of the human soul. An eternal war fought between fear and faith.
“Hey, slow down. You’re gonna miss the turn.” I applied gentle pressure to the brake, but my rusty ‘88 Century came to an abrupt halt. “Good lord, Will!” Justin said, jolting forward before slamming back to his seat.
I gripped hard on the steering wheel. "Sorry man, the brakes are a bit touchy."
“Boy I’ll say, you'd better check those out. And seriously, get rid of that stupid CD player.” Justin's hand ran through his shaggy blonde bangs before reverting his attention out the passenger window. “Just listen to the radio, or better yet nothing.”
A portable CD player rested on the console between us. It had been broken for three months, the cassette adapter jammed into the tape deck. You couldn’t pry it out with a crowbar. I never bothered or wanted to fix it. Some things you can’t fix. The brokenness reminded me of myself, and my fight.
“Don’t worry. This car has never let me down before.” I laughed, playing it cool, wearing a mask to hide the truth.
“I’m not worried about the car.” Justin said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Dude, no chick's gonna think it's cool listening to the same song over and over on a device that was popular around the time of your birth. Let’s go. The house is down this road."
***
The Brownings moved into town about a year and a half ago due to the low cost of living. I guess that's why my family stayed. Without a flinch, Justin came up to me on his first day of school and began talking like he had known me his whole life. It was nice. I needed a friend. I didn't have many. Justin had his faults, he was arrogant and cocky, but I admired his confidence and swagger. The girls loved his surfer blonde locks, broad shoulders, and sun kissed skin. He bragged he was some semipro wakeboarding champion on the west coast before he moved. I have yet to see a trophy or newspaper clipping. A lot changed in a year, yet so many things remained the same. I was learning to cope. I could even leave the house without nausea from time to time. I had Justin to thank. Friendship is powerful, healing. The problem, I still couldn't look in the mirror and like what looked back. The thought of others looking at me made it worse. Suffocating anxiety ruled each time the circle of death surrounded me, each time I was the center of attention.
"Alright everyone, get in your discussion groups and go over the results from the acceleration lab." Mr. Noell instructed the class.
Groups are a hair pin trigger for someone like me. People staring at you, judging you, thinking about what a freak you are. I sat in the chair next to Justin, pretending to study my lab notes which allowed me to keep my face hidden.
The idea manifested itself during 2nd hour Physics class. I wasn't the igniter, far from it. I was an escapist.
"You guys heard the rumors about the house on Gale road that's supposedly haunted? Totally freaky, I'm gonna check it out. Anyone interested?" Justin said, his voice forcing me to look up into the eyes of the group.
"That sounds dumb." Jill said.
"Not really, Justin." Lucy said.
Justin doesn't think. Jill Harrington and Lucy Gilman, really? Like they're going to take a night off from their boyfriends to go to a haunted house. He's such an idiot.
"How about you Will?" He asked.
"I have to check the chart, see if these results match up." I stood up and left.
"What about the house?" Justin called out.
"Oh, um, sure." I said, my back turned towards the group. If you run away you can’t get hurt. I needed a polite escape, one that would go unnoticed. I agreed because my stomach twisted and the tension in my neck rose to my face. If I said no, Justin would've just badgered me for a reason which would've drawn the attention of not just the group, but the whole class. I couldn't stand the way my classmates looked at me, seeing my face turn deep red each time I tried to speak. I stood off to the side of the room, faking like I was studying the periodic table. Nobody bothered me. My eyes darted across the room. Five, four, three, two, one, I repeated in my head until my jaw relaxed and my body stopped shaking.
***
There seems to be a tradition among kids growing up in small towns across America. You get bored and you tell ghost stories. We were no exception. In fact, it was quite common for the kids in our town to outdo each other with fanciful and exceptional tales. I’d always semi believed in haunted houses but I can’t say I have any reason to. I’ve never been witness to anything supernatural.
Millersville was a tourist attraction for the wrong reasons. It attracted people who lived on the fringes of society. Their beliefs did not mesh with mainstream America. Local history states that a philanthropist doctor, Sunny Miller, built a treatment facility in the early 1900's that housed and treated people whom society had shut out. The media praised Miller for his humanitarian and rehabilitative work. The locals had a different perspective. They believed the doctor was mad. People said he had delusions and visions of opening the gates of hell and conducted experiments on the patients he served as part of this process. Sunny later died, consumed by paranoia, as a patient in the very facility he built. His fate was hid from the public. Only his most trusted staff members knew of his condition. They wanted to preserve his good name and keep the integrity of the facility intact. It wasn’t long before the stories leaked and the townspeople put their own spins and interpretations on them.
The stories were local lore and I believed none of it to be true. No evidence of inhumane experiments was ever found. The story and our town gathered attention after a cable channel’s documentary feature about the mysteries of the paranormal some fifteen years ago. Now, we attract gawkers and thrill seekers looking for a scare. The local kids joke that our town is the Devil’s Rendition of Sedona Arizona. Once a month like clockwork a new shop opens up claiming to be the only one in town selling real cursed objects and magical trinkets. At best, the stories and legends helped to drive down housing costs. At worst, they attracted every fire and brimst
one preacher within the tri-state area.
There's a local legend of a girl who died while waiting for her date to take her to the prom. She had been planning every minute detail for three straight months. Like so many other young women on prom night she wanted everything to be perfect. As fate would have it her date was running late. With anticipation growing, she walked to the end of her long driveway, the crisp spring created the antidote to calm her nervous stomach. Gazing into the distance, she entertained dreams of an enchanted evening with all her friends, becoming lost in the majestic beauty of the night that lay ahead, she never saw the out-of-control pickup truck barreling towards her. The vehicle struck with astonishing force as it slammed into the sturdy oak that had been standing for years, pinning the girl, knocking the life from her fragile body. Her beautiful pink dress torn with speckled crimson. Such was an act of terrible coincidence since the road in which the girl lived was hardly traveled. In fact, it was her date for the evening that put an end to her short life.
The driver was a local boy. He worked at the treatment facility as an evening janitor. People say the devil entered him that night. The experiments conducted by the doctor were said to have produced enough dark energy to create a crack in the wall that separated our world from theirs. The dark energy attracted the attention of the devils. They would slip through the crack and prey on weak willed humans, manipulating and controlling their behavior, causing them to do horrific things. Such was said to be the fate of the boy and his date.
As sad as this story is, I honestly couldn’t tell you if it was the truth or just the collective imaginations of the town’s people that passed it around. The human mind can have trouble distinguishing between what's real and what isn’t.
***
Logic and emotion were waging their timeless war, choosing my brain as their battlefield. Bloody images of the stories Justin told during class started to crack the wall I raised in my mind to keep them out. As always, he was our group leader but more into telling tall tales than working on assignments. I shouldn't have allowed him to convince me, but I never learned to say no. Instead, I'm trapped in a car, praying I don't get sick. I'm not afraid for the reasons you might think. Who wouldn't be a little afraid going to a house that’s supposedly haunted? My angst runs deeper. If you've ever experienced mental illness you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, pray you never do. Feeling trapped is like being on death row when you have anxiety. I said yes so Justin would leave me alone and the attention of the group would be drawn away. The problem, I avoided one disorder and traded it for another.
The moisture of my palms and shallowness of my breath indicated the floodgates of panic were ready to burst. My eyes focused straight ahead as I made the left hand turn to venture down the road haunted by the crimson ghost.
The road narrowed, changing from fresh pavement to loose gravel. Thick trees and falling leaves surrounded us. Crooked bare branches hung over head. Fall had set in. We left the safety and familiarity of our world and drove into another. “I really hope we don’t meet another car. There’s not even room to pull over.” I said, interrupting Justin who had been speaking the entire trip of the stories he'd heard about the girl.
“No way dude. Nobody comes out here anymore.” Justin said.
It's the first thing I was consciously aware of Justin saying even though he had been talking for twenty minutes. This had been his third trip down the superstitious road in hopes of catching a glimpse of the famed girl. He hadn’t personally seen anything unusual and appeared to carry himself with an outward confidence. However, I have a knack for feeling what others are experiencing. His experience of the road was no different from mine.
We rounded the curve as a squirrel darted out into the road. I jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the creature. “Dang that was close.” I said. How nice it would feel to be that squirrel, to have never heard the ghostly tales. In his world, everything was in its place and as it should be.
“Ok, the house is right after this hill on the left.” I slowed as we came to the top of a hill. “There it is, there’s the driveway. Look, there’s the tree that was half knocked down when the girl was pinned against it.” Justin spoke in a soft whisper. A tingling chill ran down my spine. Were the stories true? Or at least partly based on the truth? I pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.
“It’s fenced off and there are no trespassing signs everywhere. Do you think we should even be here?” I said, unable to gain control of my shaking hands.
“Don't worry man, the cops just put those up to scare kids from coming out here and setting traps for people.” Justin said.
“Traps!”
“Shh.”
“Why? Aren’t we the only ones out here?” I said.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Justin said, punching my arm.
“What the hell is up with these so called traps then?”
“Some kids like to come out here and leave bloody dolls in trees and stuff, it adds to the whole haunted effect I guess. They sit out here in the woods with night vision cameras and make videos of shaken tourists to post on YouTube. You should see some of them. They're hilarious.” Justin laughed. His enthusiasm triggered a wave of nausea. “We’ll let’s get out and have a look. Don’t sweat it, the cops did a good job scaring people off.”
“Sure thing man.” I made a weak attempt to duplicate Justin’s excitement. Knowing others had been here before gave me a slight confidence. If we saw something, it was probably just someone's idea of a sick joke. I turned off the car and stepped outside.
The night air owned a chilling bite that nibbled my erratic nerves. We stood by the car methodically taking in the scenery, neither one of us eager to make the first move. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the night. The moon was bright and gave an odd but friendly glow to the surrounding woods. It lit our path, inviting us to descend into the unknown. Out of the eerie glow of the forest came a high-pitched shriek. A jolt of electricity shot through my body as instinct swung my arms up in defense.
“Settle down Will!” Justin said. “It was just an owl or something.” Adrenaline pounded through my veins. “Man you’re jumpy. Take some breaths dude. Calm down.” My muscles tightened harder the more I pretended to relax.
“You’re right Justin. I guess I've been a little tense tonight.” I fought to distract myself from the fearful thoughts that pillaged my mind. It was no use. My mind looped worse than my broken CD player.
We hopped the short metal gate and within fifty feet the forest opened up. A long gravel driveway separated a small pond lined with white lilies. Given an alternative scenario, it would have been quite beautiful under the light of the moon. Being in the open space had a calming influence. It would be hard for anything to sneak up and surprise us. A wave of tranquility flowed through me providing mild comfort. Betrayal came a second later. Fear tightened its clasp on my lungs the moment I let my guard down. I fought with agony to cling to the tranquil thoughts, but was asking the impossible of myself. I struggled to hang on, fear becoming more powerful with each hopeless slip. One after another, distressed thoughts rose to my mind, each one more intense than its predecessor, begging me to panic. I jabbed my hand into the pocket of my jeans and rubbed the smooth cool steel between my fingers. The dip separating the two halves calmed me. I had been carrying the heart for almost ten years now. The charm’s texture grounded me to reality, giving me comfort, hope, strength. It was meant for someone else, not for me. I wasn’t a hero. I never had the courage to part with it. Doing so would make me vulnerable, in more ways than one.
Justin and I took our time moving down the driveway, being careful not to make a lot of noise. We’d pause often to listen for any unusual sounds. We heard nothing except for the slight breeze that swirled around us. In the distance stood a small barn whose white paint glowed against the moonlit background of the darkened forest. There was an opening on the second floor where a door used to be. We could see inside the barn, b
ut it was too dark to make sense of anything.
“Hey, shine your flashlight up there.” Justin wanted to know what was waiting inside. I pointed the light towards the 2nd floor opening. A loud squawk rang out as an explosion of feathers burst into the air and floated to the ground. We both jumped back and looked at each other.
“Huh, just a bird,” I said.
“I heard a boy hung himself from the very ledge that bird was on.” Justin said.
“What? Oh my God."
“Ha, I just made that one up.” A smile cracked from behind Justin’s stern face, his lame attempt at humor pulling a feeble grin across my mouth. I searched my brain for a witty comeback. Banter was never my strength but I could usually come up with something, especially when directed towards Justin. He was one of those guys that was easy to give crap too. I think because he dished so much of it out it became natural to return the favor. Tonight was different. Fighting my anxiety disorder had a way of shutting me up, turning me inward, more than I normally am.
“Look up ahead!” Justin said.
“Shh, they might hear us. The kids, with the traps and cameras." I said.
“Will, you can relax, it’s just us. Don’t you remember talking about it? The police put a stop to all that. Are you ok? You seem distracted tonight, like you aren’t with me.”
Justin didn’t know about my condition, how the anxiety made it difficult to focus on the present, and how the constant battle for peace left me exhausted. None of my friends knew. They could never know. The rejection would send me into a turmoil I couldn't pull out of.
"Never mind." I kicked the ground in front of me.
“Look, there it is.” Justin said. We crept to a three story Victorian style house. Frightened and alone it called to us, begging us to enter and relieve it of it’s past. “Here, give me your flashlight,” I handed my light to Justin. “What the hell, Will. This thing is soaking wet!”
“I guess my hands must be sweaty. Here, let me wipe it off.” I grabbed the light from Justin’s hand and wiped it down with the sleeve of my jacket. I took a long glance upward toward the house. Its beauty was haunting. This was the type of place you’d work hard to keep up, not hide it a mile into the woods.
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