Gravel Switch: the black goat chronicles book 1: a Weird Tale of Extreme Horror

by Davidson, Aleister

  “The legends surrounding it are many and the truth can often be hard to distinguish from fiction. But rest assured, that house feeds on its residents. It is a vile plague on this community, hell, on this earth itself. My granny used to say it was the place where the devil landed when he fell to earth. Now I don’t know if that is true, but it is irrelevant because for all intents and purposes it acts as such. Now it may not even be the house itself either, so much as the land it is on, which also has its own twisted history.”

  Amy stared on, nodding and absorbing everything Phyllis said as if her life depended on it. She breathed in deeply. When Phyllis paused to let her speak or ask questions. Amy remained silent and waited for the old woman to continue, hanging on every word.

  “In the seventeen hundreds French fur trappers were making their way through this part of Kentucky when they came upon a group of Indians. Pawnee who had come across the Ohio river to hunt before the winter. The story goes that the French approached peacefully and traded with the Pawnee that day. Everything was fine until the next day, when the braves were out hunting. The fur trappers came back to the Indian camp. They massacred everyone there. All women and children. They took all of their scalps and all of their furs and food. It is said that the braves returned to find the French taking turns raping the last living girl and a fierce fight broke out. Only one brave survived. They say he cursed the land. He called for a scourge to forever come to eat his enemies.

  “Sixty years later the Hickman family built the first house on that very spot. The spot where your house is now. They were the ones used to run everything around here. Back in the early eighteen hundreds they were the richest family around. But, as you know we had a big battle right here during the war between the states. Perryville. Truth be told neither side won. The yankees lost many times more men, but the Confederacy was forced out of Kentucky permanently. But I digress…”

  Amy sat transfixed. She looked Phyllis right in the eye for all of it. For a moment she pondered just how beautiful the old woman’s blue green eyes were and noted just how pretty she must have been in her day, though there were no pictures around to verify this notion.

  Phyllis stood up, went into the kitchen with both of their mugs and topped off both of their coffees. She returned to the dining room, sat both cups on the table and went immediately back into the kitchen. A silver platter like the one from the antique tea service Amy found in her attic was in Phyllis’s hands. On the tray were several colas of high grade marijuana, some rolling papers, an ashtray and a lighter. “Roll one up for us dear, my arthritis is acting up, I can’t roll too good right now,” Phyllis said before continuing the story. Amy wasn’t shocked at all that the old psychic used marijuana medically to help her arthritis. She nodded in agreement and began to roll a joint.

  “Now after the fighting at Perryville men from both sides were lost. Scattered, running for their lives through the thick of these woods and hills right here in Gravel Switch. As it so happened a group of about ten to twelve Confederate soldiers found the Hickman house, which at the time was occupied by the youngest of the Hickman sons, his wife and kids and their two slaves, Sheridan and Matilda. They took everyone hostage and used the house to hole up in until the yankee patrols stopped scouring the area. Well everyone that is except Matilda who was out in the fields when they showed up, walking home from a farm down the road, warning the neighbors the fighting was getting close to home. She, seeing the rebels take her husband and her master’s family hostage ran as fast as she could away from the house. She ran straight into a group of U.S. Army cavalry men who were hunting for the very rebels she was fleeing. She told them everything, begged for them to save her family. Told them right were to go and they did. But when they got there they met stiff resistance. Tired of losing men the Lieutenant ordered the house be burnt to the ground with everyone in it. They set it afire and rode on. Everyone inside burnt to a crisp, all down in that basement,” as Phyllis spoke a strange darkness fell over her face.

  “Oh my god,” was all Amy could say as she toked on the fat joint that she had rolled from Phyllis’ tray. She passed the joint without saying a word, desperately wanting to hear more. So intrigued by the story she had forgotten where it was going, or even that it pertained to her and her own strange situation.

  “Nobody knows what happened to Matilda. That is why I am finding it, well a bit funny, that she said the doll’s name was Matilda. I guess the Hickman’s loved her to death though. Matilda’s daughter was owned by the head of the family, the father of the one who burned with the house. After the fire they set her free out of pity after she lost her dad, and her mother went missing. She continued to live on the Hickman farm and eventually married one of them. They had a child and that is who all the Hickmans in this area today are descended from, as the rest of the family line fell ill with consumption.”

  “Consumption?” Amy asked curiously.

  “That’s what they used to call tuberculosis,” Phyllis informed her before continuing. “Amy that house you live in today is built right on top of the site of that fire, right on the same foundation. The spirits there are unrestful. The Hickmans have known since the turn of the century that the house was home to more than just the people who lived there. It is still home to all the people who died there…but also to something else. Something ancient. Something unfathomable by the human mind, imperceivable in its entirety by our limited senses and our shallow understanding. Amy, it is the very home of a wickedness that was old itself before the earth even formed in the wake of the sun. It feeds on fear, death, paranoia. It drives the weak minded mad and the strong willed to the breaking point.

  “You are not the first to willingly walk into its grasp. Nor will you be the last. It almost had me once myself. It took the man I love from me….and that’s all I’m going to say about it. I just don’t want it to happen to you. You are too young and you seem like a nice girl. Anywhere else you could live would be a good idea. But I fear if you stay in that house then it will be the death of you… and it won’t be pretty. I don’t want to see another life ruined. It’s fed enough already!” she began to shake and spill coffee as she deeply hit the joint Amy rolled to try to calm down. Phyllis obviously had an emotional attachment to the house and one of its occupants that was motivating her to convince Amy to leave.

  Still Amy was afraid. Much more so than she had been before the visit, which was saying something. Still, she felt she had pushed Phyllis too far in asking for help on this subject as she watched a tear run down the poor old woman’s cheek. Amy got the feeling Phyllis was irrevocably scarred by her own personal experience.

  She got up to leave, gave Phyllis a deep hug like one would give an old friend and walked to the front door. She knew there was much more to learn and that Phyllis knew what she herself desperately wanted to know, but Amy also knew she had pushed the old woman too far. She opted to return soon to finish the conversation.

  As she stepped out on the front porch Phyllis said, “come back soon dear. We’ll finish this tale, you’ll see that I’m not puttin’ you on about all this. And if you see any of those damn coyotes you be careful. They aren’t what they seem. Especially the ones with the red eyes. If you see one of them, well…you come tell me okay.” Phyllis followed Amy out to her car to see her off and handed her one of the bundles of wolf’s bane. “Take this dear and stay safe.”

  Amy put the bundle in the passenger’s seat and backed out of the driveway. As she began to drive home she noticed that the sun was directly overhead. The clock said noon, yet she felt she had only been inside for an hour. Just long enough to smoke a joint and have a couple of cups of coffee. She drove home without giving it much thought.

  When she arrived Hank was on the front porch with his head in his hands. He did not move as she approached. “Hank, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  He didn’t speak, just motioned at the front door. It was covered in writing. Writing that was obviously in blood that said, Ia Shub-Niggurath. Th
ere were strange symbols drawn beneath the words. Symbols that Amy had only recently seen at Phyllis’s house in her paintings. On the doorstep, atop the welcome mat was perched a severed pig’s head. Tongue lolling out to the side. One of the symbols from the door, a spiral shape, drawn on its forehead.

  “What the fuck is going on Amy?” Hank asked, choking back tears, his voice cracking like a pubescent boy.

  “We’re fucked Hank. That’s what’s going on. We need to get the hell out of here right now,” Amy said with a dire sense of urgency.

  “What about our grow Amy? We can’t go anywhere for at least a month,” Hank reminded her.

  Hank sighed deeply and held his wife close.

  4

  The Doctor

  After several months had passed and summer gave way into a cold fall Hank and Amy found themselves comfortable, part of the local community and free of any thoughts to the weirdness that had ensued over the spring and summer. Hank had become somewhat of a local celebrity as the only glass blower around. He soon found a thriving local market for his pipes and other wares. Everyone and their mom smoked marijuana in Marion county and soon his glass wares became status symbols among, most especially, the local marijuana growers.

  As he built a strong clientele for his glass he found a few key individuals who were interested in his strain of hydroponic cannabis. Again he made a name for himself as his product was head and shoulders above and beyond the outdoor, local weed. It wasn’t that the strains were poor or that the other growers were unskilled. It was that Hank had a green thumb and attention to detail that few marijuana growers possessed. It wasn’t long before Hank had grown considerable clout in the community. With that large farm house and huge yard he would invite his friends from Lexington out in droves to party. They set up makeshift stages, or used the front porch, for his friends’ bands to play. They had barbecue and keg parties and all the Lexingtonians were able to mingle with and meet the country folk in a natural and organic way that otherwise would not have occurred.

  As Hank enjoyed his new celebrity status Amy found a niche of her own. She started a sewing business and converted one of the spare bedrooms into a sewing room, another spare bedroom into storage for her fabrics. It was still used for guests as a bedroom, but half of it was dominated by stack after stack; shelves and Rubbermaid tubs full of fabrics. She took a job managing a Walgreen’s pharmacy in Danville, some thirty minutes drive from her home, and settled into her role with a natural ease. She enjoyed the slower pace of country life and found it easy to converse and bond with the people who came into the store.

  Jared was one such person she met at work. He was a doctor at the University of Kentucky hospital in Lexington who happened to have grown up in Marion county and lived in Bradfordsville. Amy was immediately attracted to him. He was tall, probably six foot five, and he had thick, curly, shoulder length hair that bounced slightly as he walked. Dark eyes and a dark complexion he was obviously Melungeon. He always stopped in on his way home from work and got an Ale-8-One, Kentucky’s signature soft drink. He would stay and chat with Amy when no one else was in the store or if it was extremely slow. Always in his blue scrubs from the hospital and always more flirtatious than he should be with a married woman. Still she found herself inviting him over for their next big party.

  “Jared, come by my house this weekend. We are having a bonfire party Saturday night, on into Sunday. There’s gonna be bands and at least one keg. Lots of people will be there. You’ll probly know some of ‘em,” the words came out of her mouth with much more of a drawl than they would have a couple of months prior. The country was having a quick influence of how she spoke. This time she became acutely aware and got a little embarrassed as she had spoken to him, her cheeks went flushed. She batted her eyes at him in nervousness as he was slow to answer.

  “I’d love to come by. Been wanting to get a pipe from your husband anyway,” he said in an assuring tone.

  More to remind herself than him she said, “his name’s Hank.”

  “Oh, okay,” Jared said as he lost his toothy, almost cheesy smile and adopted a look that betrayed a little disappointment that his rival now had a name. “Can’t wait to meet him,” he lied obviously.

  Seeing no one else in the store Amy jotted down her number on an old receipt and handed it to Jared. Letting her fingers graze his, ever so slightly and lingering just a little too long. She came out from behind the counter and lifted her arms up demanding a hug. He met her embrace and was lost in time. Neither of them knew how long they held one another, but both knew it had been far too long to speak about, but not as long as either of them wanted. Jared got a stiff erection almost immediately and became embarrassed, tried to pull back but Amy put her hand on his lower back and pushed him towards her, surprising both of them. She let out a soft sigh as she felt him throbbing against her. When they let each other go his erection was more than obvious through his scrubs. He turned to walk out the door, his face turning beet red as he noticed an elderly woman had entered the store and was staring at him and Amy, needing help getting a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter.

  He lifted his hand and waved goodbye awkwardly, walking out of the store so fast he almost ran straight into the automatic door before it could open for him. “See ya Saturday,” he said, simply to try to distract both Amy and the old woman from his boner.

  “See ya then Jared,” Amy blew him a kiss and turned her attention back to the old woman. “What can I get ya Ethel?”

  “I’ll take a carton of Misty-Ultra-light-One-Twenty-Menthol-Slims,” Ethel rattled off casually.

  “Wow, what a mouthful,” Amy muttered to herself as she found the carton and rang up the purchase. Turning back to Ethel she said, “that’ll be thirty eight seventy four sweetheart.”

  Ethel swiped her credit card and took her carton of cigarettes and her receipt. As she turned to leave she smiled at Amy and breathed in deeply before laying out her truth. “A cock that big only comes along once in a lifetime on a man that good looking. I’d jump right on that if I was you dear. I see that wedding ring, but whoo whee…um, um, um…fine lookin’ man.”

  As Ethel walked out to her car Amy knew she had just been hit in the face with the kind of wisdom only one who had lived a long and full life, who knew about love and regrets, could deliver. She stood for some time with her mouth wide open and let the truth of it all sink in.

  5

  The Party

  The next day Hank and Amy threw their big bonfire party and all of the people they had invited came, with the exception of Hank’s old friend from childhood, Chris Wilson, who had to work that Saturday night. He was a father of three young children, so Hank forgave him easily enough, though he still kept his fingers crossed in hopes that Chris would come out Sunday for the aftermath. He’d offered to let Chris have the stage to himself to play his bass guitar for the cleanup on Sunday, but still didn’t have much faith that he’d see his old friend. Otherwise Hank was ecstatic. He went about his day with an ear to ear smile and had smoked much more than his usual copious amount of marijuana. After all of the festivities had been properly arranged he knew he had no other responsibilities than to enjoy himself; so Hank dropped seven hits of LSD. It had been a long time since he had tripped on acid and he wanted to have a blast. It came on quite strong after about a half an hour and he wandered around the crowd gathered in his front yard as the first band played and everyone danced. Their music was fun for Hank and apparently the whole crowd. It was a bluegrass infused heavy metal fusion and the band introduced themselves as the Keepers of the Threshold. As he began to slip away into his psychedelic daydream Hank realized he hadn’t seen Amy in over an hour. “She must still be in the house,” he thought. “I bet she wants to trip too…I’ll go dose her and we’ll spin together. No, no. I have to hide from her that I’m trippin’. She’ll get mad at me. I could have a seizure…she won’t be down.” He went back and forth in his head about how he thought she would react.

&nbs
p; On the way to the back to his back porch he ran into Michael and Kelly Williams. A young, married couple from Gravel Switch that Hank had recently befriended. They were kind hearted and liked to laugh and smoked a lot of weed so Hank was always happy to hang out with them. His only qualm with them was that they were a bit slow. Much slower than Hank was used to. Hank had never heard such a thick country drawl as the one that rolled off of Michael’s tongue.

  “Well hey there buddy! Great party bro!” Michael exclaimed jovially and his barrel chest roared as he laughed. He had one of those baby faces that looked a bit ridiculous on a man as fat as he was, a solid three fifty, and Hank tried as hard as he could to hold in a guffaw as Michael spoke.

  “Hey, Kelly, Michael! Great to see you,” Hank managed to be courteous despite being higher than he had been in over a decade. He realized that sounds were beginning to distort a bit and that words sounded stroboscopic to his ears. “Sorry if I’m weird, I just ate a lot of acid…I’m higher than fuck. Can you help me get to the back door and into the house, I gotta find Amy. Oh, yeah…you wanna eat some acid?” Hank knew from previous conversations with the two that they had never tripped before but that they were curious.

  “My god, yeah,” they said simultaneously. “We’d love to. Thanks. And sure we’ll help you to the house,” Michael finished.

  “Stick out your tongues.”

  Hank dropped a tiny, quarter inch square piece of white paper on both of their tongues. Kelly took Hank by the hand and led him through the yard, around the back and up the porch. They took him through the back door, through the house and sat him on the couch in the living room. He had forgotten all about finding Amy and closed his eyes for a second to focus on the music. The Keepers of the Threshold were weaving a thick groove of fuzzed out stoner psychedelia with a crazy banjo solo that took Hank to a very calm place. It was mesmerizing in just the right way for how high he was and he immediately felt more comfortable and seemed to have more of his wits about him. He thought about how special this party was and how many different worlds he was able to bring together; the country and the city, the young and the old. He was impressed with himself.