Trouble's Always Watching Volume 1: Volume 1 (The Trouble Series)

by Courtney Smith

  “Well, it’s uh shame what we gone have tuh do ‘cause I really liked you. Ya know da Good Book says ‘pride comes ‘fore a fall,’” quoted the cold voice.

  “If yo’ fondness and 'fection fo' me is based ‘pon my ‘bility to be obedient, then you gone to hate me, now!” screamed Gene.

  “What’s goin’ on?” inquired Monica from behind the door.

  “Monica! Get back in da house an' make sure dat Johnny Ray ain't seein’ this!” shouted Gene.

  ”You might as well keep her out here," interjected a more zealous voice from the small gathering of white sheets, "She’s gone be the best part of the party we’re havin’ in yo’ honor!” Guns, pitchforks, and knives quickly emerged from the sheets and rushed toward Gene as he cocked his rifle. I’m gone to at least take out the two who promised to do harm to my wife ‘fore I die! Volleys of bullets showered Gene like rain. Smoke and clamor filled the air like water.

  Gene’s breathing rapidly increased before his chest fell, one last time. He lay on the ground and writhed in pain as the smoke cleared. The crowd rushed toward the man, swinging pitchforks, hoes, shovels, and knives. Monica rushed toward Johnny Ray’s cot. She yanked the snoring adolescent from his plank by his arm, putting him on the floor with some splinters in the side of his face. Her bulged eyes and trembling lips told him she had good reason for waking him. They dashed to the back with locked arms. A loud crash and multiple pounding footsteps shook the house like a wagon on a rocky road.

  Monica quickly shoved Johnny Ray through the back window seconds before torches, white sheets, and pitchforks filled the room. The disoriented resident's glance revealed his mother was no longer in view from the window.

  “We gone have some fun with you tonight, lil lady!” yelled a voice from the now-glowing backroom. Monica’s faded-gray blouse and ragged, brown skirt flew through the window, brushed Johnny Ray's face, and settled near his feet.

  The teenager crept along the side of the house, raised his head, and peered through the window to see his mother being pinned to a small, wooden table by several men holding down her legs and arms, while one climbed on top of her. She turned her tear-streaked face to see her son peering through the window and imperceptibly motioned for Johnny Ray to leave, but grief and wrath wrestled for dominance within him.

  “Dese thangs 're too hot fo' me!” shouted a man as he threw off the blanket concealing his body.

  “You damned fool! We wear them, so dey can't know who we is!” shouted another man.

  “They gone die, anyway! We might us well be com'table!”

  Sheets fell and completely covered the floor. One man shook his shaggy, brown hair and raked it with his hands before dropping his covering. He turned around to see what had the woman’s attention and noticed glossy, bulging eyes peering through the window.

  He quickly yelled, “Heard 'bout da one dat got 'way? Well, we're in fo' uh treat because it came back!” The men turned around and raced toward Johnny Ray. Monica sprang from the furniture and knocked over one emaciated-looking man with red hair and shoved an overweight, blonde man into the wall before three men wrestled her back to the table. Several alabaster hands grasped the thin adolescent’s clothes, pulled him through the window, and surrounded him.

  Johnny Ray swung wildly, but a tall, stocky man with black, shaggy hair grabbed his right arm. A man with straight, brown hair, thick mustache, and a medium build lifted him off of the ground. He repeatedly struck the man's face to no avail. Johnny Ray's last swing ended with a bleeding knuckle, a grimacing expression, and his body buckling from pain. The boy cringed at the sticky, crimson hand while raising it to his face. Johnny Ray’s tears nearly soaked his eyes as he stared at a black-bearded man tauntingly returning a tobacco-stained smile with several, missing teeth.

  “Let my boy go, and you c’n do whatever you want to me without a fight,” cried Monica.

  “So, he c'n warn da ot'er niggers like he Paul Revere? There ain't gone be none o' dat,” finalized a green pair of beady eyes through dangling, red hair. Monica tensed every fiber of body to move, but fingers and knuckles restrained nearly every muscle of her body.

  “I’m through messin’ wit’ this nigger and her boy; she’s too much trouble to have fun with,” declared another voice in the crowd. The speaking man grabbed a rope and swiftly wrapped it around Monica's wrists while her arms were held in place to ensure they remained tied. Four men grabbed each of Johnny Ray's arms and tied his hands and arms while they sat on his body with his face touching the floor. The mob lifted the bound boy with his mother and headed outside. They grabbed the corpse Johnny Ray once knew as his father and threw ropes on the tree’s largest branch.

  The green-eyed man hurriedly made nooses with the skill of a craftsman. His whiskey-laden breath burned Monica and Johnny Ray's eyes through his brown-tooth smile. A few tugs hoisted the late Gene La Salle into the air like a flag flapping in the wind. Monica knew it was her turn to ascend into the tree and take a final flight next to her deceased husband.

  “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death—.” The rope dangled the small woman’s body in the air like a sack on a string as she gasped for breath. Her legs kicked like those of a temperamental baby before they trembled and became completely still. Johnny Ray gazed into the empty, glossy eyes of Monica LaSalle’s corpse as it swayed lifelessly from side to side. The teenager’s vision became blurry as tears filled his eyes with their bitter sting.

  “Don’t worry, boy; you will be seein’ ‘em really soon,” enlightened an unsympathetic voice from the crowd. Johnny Ray felt his body’s weight bearing upon his neck as the itchy, irritating rope began crushing his air passage. He gasped for breath until blackness consumed his perception, and his whole body was limp like a hanging rug. The adolescent blacked out with numbness permeating his whole body.

  Johnny Ray's eyes shot open upon feeling a gentle breeze passing through him. I think I need to go to my room. He grunted, strained, and moaned to shift his legs, but he was more still than a statue. A glowing, amber light pierced through his blurred vision and released heat near him. His head throbbed forcefully enough to crack his spine as it swung backward.

  The blurred image burned sharply into active, amber flames. His feet rose above his head in a straight line upon thinking about moving. His head went through the ground like a plow without touching it. What da hell just happened?! Um! Why am I floatin’ like uh balloon? I don't recall bein' able tuh fly! An amber flicker reflected its furious glow in Johnny Ray's eyes, reminding him of the blaze's fierce presence. Why would anyone wanna burn their house down? He looked at the residence one more time before receiving a disturbing realization. This is my home

  Stabbing pains like icicles, heavily-stretched blood vessels, and bulging lesions inundated his back upon conceiving the question. The involuntary captive screamed as he stretched his neck to the point of completely decapitating himself. His left foot shook once before an invisible force immobilized his whole body like a baby trapped in swaddling clothing. I can't move!!! A restricting force held his body in place, nearly crushing it.

  Where are my parents? Why is our house burning, and who are you?

  Suddenly, a white-hot grasp burned into his smoking shoulder, forcefully turning him around until he saw the corpses. Smoke rose into Johnny Ray's nostrils until he shook his head in denial once, noticing the body of a teenager closely which resembled himself swinging softly to the rhythm of a light wind. Somethin' tells me I don't wanna see dis!

  Johnny Ray yanked his head away before something unseen grasped it and turned it forward. The young boy felt an unyielding force binding his head and pushing him closer. The tattered overalls and dark skin were somehow familiar. Johnny Ray stared carefully at the hands and palms to see familiar calluses. He suddenly
choked back tears.

  “Am I—?” started to ask the bewildered adolescent before his awareness went black.

  * * *

  A parched throat filled his mouth with grit permeating his awareness. He gagged upon spitting out soil and grass when he opened his eyes. Moonlight delicately illuminated numerous crosses with its silver accent under the black sky. He coughed as he pushed himself off of the ground. His eyes froze upon an inscription on an old, ragged cross in front of him: HERE LIES JOHNNY RAY LASALLE. The boy pushed his right leg in front of the other before a grasp pulled him beneath the soil in a blink.

  * * *

  His shoulder smoldered from the white-hot grasp digging into it upon opening his eyes. Small, black, and smoky mist rose from the ground with twisting winds. They assumed the forms of large snakes and slowly traveled toward Johnny Ray. The mists converged with each other nearly one foot ahead of the teenager. The adolescent watched with bulged eyes and trembling hands as the shapeless forms twisted into a whirlwind.

  Suddenly, a veil fell from the massive twister to reveal a large, skeletal hand. Something pushed Johnny Ray closer to the hand until he was an inch away from it. The passing breezes’ sensations lost their effects upon him. Why is this happening to--? His limbs prickled before his mind could construct a question. Johnny Ray noticed his awareness became increasingly faint until it disappeared, altogether.

  * * *

  Johnny Ray felt his feet upon warm, moist, and firm soil. He glanced upward and noticed there were several familiar, green stalks surrounding him. The teenager slowly rose to his feet and turned around until he was completely standing. He was kneeling in the fields when he realized a voice was calling his name.

  “Johnny Ray! Johnny Ray! When I find you, you’re gonna bleed you so much; people will start thankin’ you an Indian!” Familiar, green stalks hovered over him. He slowly rose and balanced his feet upon the satiny soil. Instantly, the young man remembered why he was hiding: someone had stolen molasses from the general store down the street. He was the usual suspect among his people with good reason. A bottled admission of his guilt teetered between his foot and one of the stalks. Dese co'nfiel's 're tall! No one gonna find me out!--

  A firm grip seized his shoulder and lifted him in one motion before abruptly turning him around. Gene Carver LaSalle's furrowed eyebrows, squinted eyes, and pursed lips, and raw strength told him struggling was pointless. There ain't no negotiatin' wit' him. Johnny Ray's eyes toggled between the dripping rope in his father's right hand and the barrel on the porch. Blurred images and scattered thoughts overshadowed one another to avoid the consequences.

  “You c'n put me down! I c'n walk!"

  “If I did dat, you'd do mo' than walk. I been yo' father a very long time. I know da way ya think!” laughed Gene, wryly. The young man gritted his teeth and cramped his stomach. He felt a sudden drop before his stomach slapped the top of a round, wooden object. His eaten lunch nearly reached the back of his throat before receding down his esophagus. Johnny Ray's wide eyes focused upon the dripping rope quickly approaching his back before his awareness ceased...

  * * *

  Johnny Ray's shoulder exploded with pain as two, burning white incisors were plunged into it. A faint shriek barely escaped his mouth in exchange for agony. A ring of amber flames descended from the sky like rain until it surrounded the whole city. A white, fiery vortex within the first wreath of flames sucked Johnny Ray through it like a vacuum. He looked around to notice pure darkness encompassed his sight. His face felt like millions of hooks ensnared it before he saw a black, filmy object leaving it. It joined other similar, shadowy entities frenzying around the opening like a stirred nest of hornets.

  His arms trembled, hands throbbed, and body quivered as burning fumes irritated his opening eyes. His teeth gnashed to the point of nearly shattering upon seeing a fiery surface. His awareness nearly slipped away before a flame jarred him awake. A fifteen-foot figure resembling a black blanket had grasped the back of his clothing swept over a fiery lake with a decrepit board and incandescent-orange, rusty chains attached to it, protruding through the lake’s surface. Magma burned all conceivable thoughts and awareness with his body streaking through the molten rock like a torpedo.

  Johnny Ray flung his blazing arms wildly with the burning sea covering him like a blanket. His eyes bulged near bursting while shadowy entities gathered around him like flies on manure. Noooo! He seized one breath and leapt before a searing pain emanated from his ankles. A quick glance revealed red, smoking fetters had clamped upon his ankles like snakes with smoke rising from his flaring legs. The dark figures began flying much faster with each wail of discomfort from their guest. The shadows melted into shapeless, moving, black masses upon the lake's surface.

  A feral growl shook the lake, forming fiery, two-story tidal waves with tawny claws preceding a lion leaping from the fiery mass. Another black lump lengthened and rolled until fangs protruded from a slithering viper. Capillaries, arteries, and veins exploded with crimson fluid bursting from them as the captive watched the events. Johnny Ray inhaled before a Rottweiler and a pit bull plunged their teeth below the surface of his arms. He stared up to see a large, twenty-foot alligator with scales, rough skin, dagger-like teeth crawling upon him.

  The large reptile suddenly sunk its teeth into the tormented boy’s legs and started rotating its body. The shadows flew around like missiles as some drove needles through his eyes, nose, and mouth. Suddenly, Johnny Ray's breathing slowed, his muscles were slightly more relaxed, and his focus was a little more intact. What's going on? How come I am not suffering? Then, he unexpectedly lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Johnny Ray slowly opened his eyes to Monica LaSalle sitting upon his cot next to him within their home. He smiled as his mother gazed affectionately at him and grazed his cheek with her hand.

  "Mama! I had the worse dream! You and Pa were killed by white men in masks and--!

  "Shh! Mama knows everything!" she said as she gently placed a finger vertically upon Johnny Ray's lips and pulled him closer to her bosom to hug him. Wait a minute! My mother loved me, but she ain’t eva been dis carin'! Something's wrong!

  He pulled back to see linear pupils, yellow scleras, and her tongue was forked!

  * * *

  Johnny Ray screamed as his ankles were burned by magma and the lake’s fetters. Tears of blood trickled from eyes bulging near bursting. The stress caused him to writhe and struggle as though any movement produced some type of relief. Ah! Ah--! He could not even form thoughts because of the degree of pain he was experiencing. The fetter’s chains became tauter until his legs were on the verge of tearing from his body.

  Most of falling shadows slithered into one another and formed a massive, black typhoon with smoky figures walking out of it. The smoke cleared, revealing numerous doppelgangers of Monica LaSalle's walking toward him with yellow scleras and linear pupils like cats. One entity mocked, “You always gave me problems!” and proceeded to stab him with a bayonet on the end of a rifle.

  “I never got any rest ‘cause I’s always worried ‘bout you getting’ in trouble!” tormented another figure as she removed a sword from an old rusty scabbard and sliced repeated at him with an airplane propellers’ speed.

  “My life became a livin’ hell ‘cause I had to always to look over my shoulder to make sure my precious son was not givin’ the other neighbors any type of grief!” as the doppelganger cocked the rifle and fired into the side of Johnny Ray’s head.

  “You let a group of evil men come into the house and take advantage of yo’ mama!” spoke another evil version of his mother before it stabbed the tormented boy in the back of the head with a spear.

  The wicked counterparts of Monica LaSalle glared behind them and cleared a path for a larger, dark entity. Johnny Ray's eyes no longer had enough fluid to cry, and his throat was so dry; only gasps replaced the screams, rising from his lungs. His mouth hung open upon feeling pain. He blinked through his bleeding e
yelids to see Gene Carver LaSalle swaggering toward him with a pitchfork and poised rifle.

  “Why have ya always disappointed me son? It’s like ya never try ta make me proud of anything ya do!” mimicked the evil embodiment of his deceased father before striking him in the head with the butt of a rifle, repeatedly. A furious wave of teeth, claws, fangs, and paws ripped into Johnny Ray. Blood, hair, teeth and bone flew before the creatures paused with vicious stares at one another upon seeing a crimson smear upon the lake. Their physical bodies melted into shadowy puddles and faded out of sight.

  Every cell of Johnny Ray’s crimson smear felt the intense heat of the fiery lake beneath it. A small, white glimmer formed above the area where the boy was destroyed before becoming a glow. White electrical sparks surrounded it as it expanded. The shadows smoldered near it and scattered with its increasing volume and illumination. Small, scattered clumps floated above the fiery lake and slowly reassembled. Johnny Ray quickly covered his eyes with his hands, shuddered, and cringed before the fetters and shackles fell from his feet and hands. Distant scowls and hisses became fainter until the demonic presence was completely absent.

  The captive suddenly felt the burning grasp of the entity, which brought him there, but the tunnel's grasp was much stronger. Wha! What! Wha! What! He remained immobile as an unseen force carried him through the bright tunnel. A warm, friendly feeling provided comfort, which penetrated his soul. His hands trembled, eyes bulged, and stiffness captured his attention upon seeing two uncomfortably familiar figures. Monica and Gene Carver LaSalle stood at the opening with outstretched arms.

  Images of his parents stabbing, beating, and shooting him streamed through his mind briefly, and he slowly backed away from them. Warm, powerful grasps of peace, joy, and love surrounded him like people attending Black Friday. He opened his eyes, seeing his mother and father embracing him. What?! They're not hurting me?! Tears saturated the cheeks of reunited LaSalle Clan, and they held each other as though they were joined at birth. A voice shattered the reunion with its demand for attention.