“I arrived at the house very apprehensive, having not seen or even thought about it in years. Its dilapidated state was a bit mournful to me even in spite of my past history with it. I entered through the front door and made my way to the second floor where my grandfather had kept his collection. The rooms were now in complete disarray and a moldy smell permeated the entire structure. Looters had thoroughly pilfered anything of value in the house and I was saddened to see how the old man’s books were scattered about the place, soggy and rife with mold, totally useless now. Having found nothing of worth, I was about to leave when I realized something that stopped me dead in my tracks. My nightmares were of that very room!
“Not ten feet in front of me was the draped window in which many times I dreamt of seeing my grandmother staring out at me as I passed by the house. That old feeling of panic renewed itself but I somehow found the courage to maintain my composure. ‘After all…I am an adult,’ I thought to myself, ‘and all that terror I experienced was a result of a child’s wild imagination!’ I reasoned it all out in my mind and was quite satisfied with my mature take on it. But a second later I noticed something sitting on the window sill. I walked over and picked it up. It looked strangely familiar, then my stomach began to feel queasy. I turned over the front cover to the book and there upon its first page I saw the words…‘I’m so glad you’re dead! Stay that way old woman!‘ I stared in horror because below those words, in a shaky hand was written, ‘WE SHALL SEE MY DEAR … WE SHALL SEE!’
The old barkeep slapped his knee and a huge grin beamed across his face. “That’s a pure dilly my boy, a pure dilly!” he cried out as he raised his mug in salute. Old Pete nodded his agreement then went back to his sweeping.
“He doesn’t say much, does he?” asked the stranger.
“No sir, he doesn’t,” replied the old man hanging his head. “Not for a very long time now.”
The old man suddenly perked up again. “Well, one good tale deserves another and ol’ Tom’s in the mood to tell it, so sit back and enjoy your Lager while I regale you with a tale of a place just like this one many, many years ago…
“There once was a very lively and prosperous Inn situated at the halfway point between two busy trading towns. The Inn at that time was called ‘THE ROOST’ and it was frequented by all different character types and vocation of men. Trappers were the most common but there were gamblers, homesteaders, sailors, traders, salesmen, and a whole host of others that passed through its doors… mostly folk of ill repute it could be truthfully said. The Inn keeper there was an honest but stern fellow, he made it a point to keep the peace in his establishment and he did this with the help of a blunderbuss he kept hidden behind the bar. The only other employee there was an old servant who performed most of the cooking and cleaning chores and together over time they developed quite a reputation for themselves as a place where you could have a drink and spin a good yarn in confidence. The customers at that time were a lively bunch, full of spit and vinegar as they say, telling the wildest of tales which stretched the imagination and oh how the Innkeeper loved to hear their tales!
“But one late evening after everyone had either gone home or bedded down for the night, a stranger came to the Inn looking to satisfy his thirst. He stumbled through the door in a drunken state and yelled out for assistance. Within a few moments the Innkeeper appeared from the back room, bleary eyed and dressed in his night clothes. He explained that there was a bed available but that drinks were no longer being served on account of the late hour. The stranger was about to make an uproar when he realized that he still had a bottle of rum in the pocket of his overcoat. Satisfied with his discovery, he sat down in front of the fireplace and proceeded to ramble on about his immoral exploits. The Innkeeper beckoned the servant to prepare a bed for the stranger as he himself wasted no time in returning to the fire for fear that he might miss out on some tidbit of fascination. Perhaps it was the monotony of Inn keeping or just the envy of men who lived dangerously and sought a life of adventure that fed his need to absorb their tales, whatever it was he could hardly contain his eagerness for a new story.
“The stranger boasted many a villainous act but he became most lively when he talked of an evil conquest that took place that very evening. As it was, he and three other men were sailors from the ship ‘Maytu Queen’ that lay anchored in nearby Oak Harbor. It was resupplying itself and was scheduled to set sail by weeks’ end for the long voyage to the Marianas. The crew, however, was on the verge of mutiny as a result of ill treatment by the Captain and his officers. The four hastily hatched a plot to relieve the ship of her gold stores, but when the deed was underway a deck officer walked in on the theft and they had no choice but to soundly slice him to pieces. They managed to make off with a small chest of bullion and when they were far enough away they decided to hide the treasure in an old abandoned barn on the outskirts of Barstone.
“On a fortnight, after all the commotion had settled, they would again rejoin forces and divvy up the treasure. Men, of course, can never be trusted to stay loyal to one another and sailors are no exception to this; only these fellows were bound to fidelity by an ancient blood oath. As they became brothers with the mixing of their blood, one of them read from a small parchment that applied a most potent curse upon any of which broke its contract. The men were not even to speak a syllable of what had occurred or the curse would wreak havoc upon the unfaithful.
“All of a sudden, the stranger stopped speaking and stared as if in shock. His eyes were wide and all blood seemed to be drained from his face as he fully realized what he had done. In telling the story he had broken the contract he made earlier. In an act of desperation and part confusion he jumped to his feet and pulled his long saber from its sheath. The blade sang through the air and made fierce contact with the Innkeepers throat. His meaty head separated from his body in a splash of red and thumped loudly against the wooden floor.”
“A wildness was now aflame in the sailor’s eyes as he turned and spotted the old servant cowering behind the bar. He rushed over, grabbed the servant by the jowls and forced a small dagger into the mouth of the trembling old man thereby relieving him of his tongue. Satisfied now that there would be no one to speak of the night’s atrocity, the sailor grabbed a bottle of rum from behind the counter and made his way to the door for his escape but he stopped suddenly when he heard sounds coming from the loft above. Looking up, he saw faces staring down at him and spewing obscenities, he then realized that there were more witnesses to be dealt with. He looked around and latched on to one of the oil lamps, carrying it to the door then turned and smashed the bottle of rum upon the floor. In one last gesture of evil, he threw down the lamp which burst into flames and soon the entire structure became a raging inferno.
“Needless to say… no one inside the building escaped that night. As for the sailor… In breaking his sworn oath, he was cursed to wander the Barstone road for all eternity and on the anniversary of that fateful night he must relive the horrible deed that saw the bitter demise of ‘THE ROOST.’ I’m afraid my lad…the anniversary…is this very night!”
“Bravo, bravo!” shouted the stranger. “I must say that you had me on the edge of my seat, barkeep, and our ghostly surroundings certainly added to the effect!” He laughed. “It was, of course, very frightening and great fun but one thing does bother me…”
The old man looked puzzled. “What might that be, stranger?”
“Well, your stipulation of course. Are not our stories to be based in fact? That was one doozy of a yarn but it could hardly be taken seriously. Still, I applaud you for a great story!”
“Is that so!” said the barkeep giving a quick wink to old Pete who was anxiously standing by. “Perhaps then,” his words were slow and deliberate, “this will suffice in lending some credence to my story!”
The old man then latched on to a handful of his own hair and gave a swift tug upward. His head instantly separated from his body and remained dangling in the air as a sinist
er laugh poured forth from the ghastly figure. The old servant Pete joined the hysterics with guttural noises emanating from where his tongue used to be. The stranger fell from his chair in complete horror and made his way half crawling to the door. The laughter resonated even louder as a band of ghoulish figures joined in from the loft area. The stranger managed to make his way outside and ran blindly down the old dirt road.
Within seconds, an orange glow lit his way from behind and when he looked back he could see that the Inn was fully engulfed in flame. At that moment, a man on a horse galloped furiously passed him and a second later a flash of light temporarily blinded him. He miraculously found himself on the same hill he was taking notes the day before and his car was exactly where he left it. Wasting no time, he was soon miles away.
As he drove on, the first of morning light came peaking over the hills and he contemplated what to do next. He knew that in most stories like this, the victim would attempt to bring a companion back to try and verify the story in some way. They would probably stop to ask one of the locals about the place in question only to be told that it hasn’t existed in years, if at all. He just shook his head, deciding that the best course of action would be to do what most of us have done when confronted with a gruesome memory from our past. Just tuck it away forever!
THE LEGEND OF JEDIDIAH CRANE
The last rays of red and orange painted the distant horizon and finally settled into darkness. Another hot and dusty day on the trail had finally come to a close. A noisy clump of cattle stood nearby grazing on sparse desert grass as two tired cowboys prepared to bunk down for the night. Mike stretched out on his bed roll and stared up at the star filled sky while Buster stirred away at a pan of beans. A wolf’s howl could be heard in the distance, which got Buster thinking about what had happened earlier that day.
“Mike…” Buster took a long pause then shook his head. “Ah, never mind…it’s probably just the heat gettin to me.”
Mike rolled over onto his side. “Spit it out, Buster…we ain’t got nothin but time. What’s on your mind?”
The cowboy stopped his stirring and shrugged. “Well…did you happen to hear anything strange on the trail today, Mike? Kinda like laughter maybe? I mean, I coulda swore that I heard someone laughing, you know, a crazy sort of laugh, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure where it was comin from.”
There was a long silence as Mike considered what Buster had said then a moment later he blurted out the name “JEDIDIAH!”
Buster looked up from his beans. “What’d you say?”
“The laughter you heard…more than likely that was old Jedidiah! You ain’t never heard of the legend of Jedidiah Crane?”
Mike suddenly remembered that Buster had only worked for the ranch a few short months and wasn’t familiar with the territory or its history. Mike sat up and plucked a blade of grass from the ground and set it between his teeth. “Well then my friend, let me acquaint you with some of our colorful folk lore… it’ll make good story telling for your grand kiddies someday.”
Mike settled back against a large rock. “You see Buster, back in ‘49, it was said that gold had been discovered in these here parts. Folks poured in from all over the country in hopes of finding their fortune, they came to our small town of Shilo like ants stirred out of a hole in the ground, thousands of em, in all manner of privation, some with only a shovel and the very clothes on their back. At the time, Shilo could only boast a handful of folks and a few old buildings but after the gold fever hit, well sir, the town split its britches seemed like overnight and became a thriving community…boom town they called it. But the truth is, not much gold was ever found; turned out to be more rumor than fact. Once folks caught wind, most of em pulled up stakes and headed up to Alaska where a big strike was said to have taken place. All that remained in town at that point were a bunch of gunslingers, gamblers, and thieves and it didn’t take long for the town to turn into a haven of lawlessness. Most prospectors who had any sense went off in search of greener pastures but of course there were a few stubborn old goats that still insisted on playing out their hand. One of these was Jedidiah Crane.
“Now Jedidiah staked a claim for himself early on and stayed put, he tunneled deep into the side of one of these hills, but after two long years of backbreaking work he was no closer to striking it rich than the day he started. Tattered clothes and an old worn out mule was about all he had left to his name and to make matters worse he was slowly starving to death. He no longer made his monthly ride into town for supplies since he had no money to speak of and besides, it seemed that he owed everyone this side of the Pecos. A trip into town more than likely would cost him his life. Yes sir, it couldn’t have been more hopeless for old Jedidiah but little did he realize that his life was about to change in a most unexpected way… once of course he met the man in black!
“That night, Jedidiah sat by his camp fire brooding over his misfortunes when, out of frustration, he yelled into the darkness. ‘It ain’t like I’m a greedy man! I ain’t askin for a wagon full of gold or nothin!’ He brought his cupped hands up to his face and stared at them for a long while. His voice faded to a teary whisper. ‘I… I’d give anything for just two hands full of gold… just anything!’
“Suddenly, out of the night came a deep unsettling voice. ‘Anything, Jedidiah?’
“The words startled the old man and he fell off the log he was sitting on, he looked up and saw a tall figure standing on the other side of the fire dressed in a black suit and holding a long golden cane. The man’s eyes were black as coal and sparkled fiercely as they reflected the flame from the fire. Jedidiah pulled himself off the ground, ‘By cracky!’ he screamed, ‘Where in tarnations do a feller get his manners, sneakin up on a pore soul like that! Why… why you gave me enough fright so’s to stop my ticker for good!’
“The man laughed and licked at his lips. ‘Yes…I seem to have that effect on most everyone I meet! Now then, Jedidiah…I thought I overheard you say that you would give anything for two hands full of gold? Have I quoted you correctly, old timer?’
“An unknown fear crept into the old man but he was still angry about the sudden intrusion upon his property. ‘First off, how in tarnations had you come to know my name?’ he asked defiantly.
‘Now, now, Mr. Crane, simmer down or most surely your heart will fail you. All your questions will be answered in due course, but for now I must know if you meant what you said about giving anything for two hands full of gold.’
“Jedidiah looked at the stranger and it seemed that all the hardships of the last few years came flooding back to his mind all at once. ‘Mister, you have any idea how long I’ve been bustin’ my back on this here God forsaken chunk’o land? It’s wore a feller clean out and I’m damn near close to starving to death! Darn tootin I meant what I said, there ain’t nothin I wouldn’t give at this point for two hands full of gold and that’s a fact!’
‘At hearing this a broad smile stretched across the man’s face exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. ‘Fair enough, Jedidiah Crane, by your own words a deal has been struck between us this very night!’
“The stranger thrust the tip of his cane into the fire and kicked up a shower of sparks and burning embers high into the air. Jedidiah shielded his eyes and when he lowered his arm a few seconds later the man had completely disappeared. The old man stood shaking with fright and it was many hours before the patter of his heart would slow enough to allow him a few hours of much needed sleep.
“The next morning, the sun rose bright and warm as usual and the old man stirred upon the ground. He blinked at the light that pierced his tired eyes and raised a hand to block the glare but at that instant it became clear that something was terribly wrong. His hand, as a matter of fact, both hands felt as though they were weighted down by lead, he slowly lifted them to his face and stared in disbelief. Both gleamed a brilliant gold in the morning sunlight as though they had somehow been dipped into a liquid vat of the precious metal.
; ‘Well I’ll be dagged!’ Jedidiah cried out, not understanding what had happened but it wasn’t long before he realized that the stranger the night before must have been Old Nick himself and, although he had been thoroughly snookered by the Devil, he had to laugh out loud at the craftiness of the old fellow. He certainly got what he had wished for… his two hands were without a doubt full of gold!
“A rumbling suddenly came from deep inside the old man’s stomach, interrupting his thoughts. He was reminded once again of his most immediate concern, his dire need for food. He again stared down at his hands. By some blessing, he could still move his fingers but he had no feeling in them at all, which as it turned out was also a blessing. He had an idea. He picked up a small chisel and gouged at one of his fingers. The hardened steel made a large indentation but with no accompanying pain. A few minutes later, he was holding a finger in one hand and a hack saw in the other. He then took a hammer to the finger and pounded out its recognizable shape until it looked to be an ordinary clump of gold. He smiled at his cleverness. He would ride into town, afterall, for some much needed supplies.
“Wearing a pair of work gloves to hide his abnormalities, he quickly made his purchases and left as quietly as possible, trying not to attract too much attention. That afternoon, back at the camp, he feasted like a king for the first time in many years. He was about to stretch out for a nap when a group of riders suddenly thundered into camp in a cloud of desert dust. The old man recognized some of the faces and quickly hid his hands inside his pockets. The riders dismounted and proceeded to turn the campsite inside out searching for the gold.
“One of them walked over to the old man. ‘Say it ain’t so Jedidiah… you comin into town after all this time and not stoppin’ in to say hello!’ He grabbed the old man by the throat and his demeanor turned downright nasty. ‘Seems you been holdin’ out on us, old timer… word is that you done struck it rich and you ain’t got the common decency to stop round and pay your outstanding debts! Where is it old man? Where you hidin’ that gold?’
Weirder Than Weird Page 3